Modern Day Suicide

Part One

What if, one day you woke up and learned you're dying. Your shitty little existence just got a whole hell of a lot shorter and the worst part? Your family, every single one of them coming into your life at this one critical moment to wish you well, pray for you and the occasional "I'm sorry". What a load of shit, if any of them really cared I probably wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. Sorry to disappoint but this isn't some story about a cancer ridden kid or even a child dying from some rare heart disease. My name is Alex Jameson, I'm 23, lonely, and see no point in living. This is my story.

So how will I start this? I could start the most basic way possible, start when I was a child but I find it useless to even go back that far. I think High School was when it really hit me; The countless hours spent worrying about who liked me, worrying about who wanted to be friends, worrying about them, all of them, leaving me the next day. Entering High School at 13 didn't help much even though I excelled in school I never enjoyed it. I realized that I wasn't learning anything new, or at least nothing that I couldn't learn on my own. It seemed that High School was just some social experiment in which the prettiest ones or the meanest ones would get the most attention; the worst part was when they intertwined, when they were just as mean as they were pretty.

I used to get into fights every day, they weren't just physical they were also mentally exhausting. Looking back at it they really weren't fights. Maybe it's just me lashing out for no reason other than I went home that day and for the millionth time my mother cooked me turkey. I hate turkey. I often feel that sometimes being this picky, this smart is the worst form of a joke and what's worse is when no one listens to a single word you say. They weren't just physical they were also heavily mental. I received a reputation as a bully among the only people that actually accepted me in middle school.

It was an ordinary Tuesday, minus last night I was perfectly fine, but subconsciously it was repeating over and over in my head, then he spoke and I snapped. I turned around and started punching him in the face over and over again. The rage that took 6 sleepless hours and 2 hours of school to build up had finally exploded. When I realized what I had done I immediately got off him, wiped the blood from my hands, and walked out of the classroom. All I could remember thinking was fucking turkey. As I entered the hall my body began shaking, I could barely breathe let alone talk. After that it became normal,for the remaining three years of high school my life was a constant battle. Teachers,students and other parents were lined up waiting to attack me and took turns trying to push me further and further down the dark hole known as depression and self loathing. Most of that is blurred out at this point in my life, leaving only remnants of the pain I felt when I was a child.