Depression-Short Stories And Quotes

School Caused This

I walk into class, everyone stops and stares at me, the room, quiet. Until they start talking, they start talking about only one thing, me.

"What a freak. I thought she killed herself, I guess she was just looking for attention." I hear a boy across the room say.

"Ew, look at her, all gross, fat, ugly, and disgusting," I overhear a girl whisper to her friends, "You should just go kill yourself already attention whore!" She yells at me.

I then start thinking, I should've cut deeper. I should've taken more pills. I should've eaten less so that I could be pretty, and happy.

Then the teacher takes one look at me, and says,

"Damn, I thought she would've killed herself by now. She makes my job too hard."

I take my pencil case out of my bag. I grab my pencil sharpener. I carefully, but quickly, remove the blade.

I sit there, in the back of the class, while everyone else is in a class discussion, and start to dig the blade into my wrist, pushing it down as hard as I can. I feel the blood starting to drip out.

One cut. Two cuts. Three cuts. Four cuts. What's one more? I switch to the other wrist. Five cuts. Six cuts. Seven cuts. By now the blood is dripping all over me and covering the floor underneath me. There's blood everywhere.

I'm getting dizzy now, but it's okay, it reminds me that it will all be over soon.

Now everyone sees the blood everywhere as they look back at me. Now they care, seeing me covered and surrounded by blood is what it took for them to care.

I'm getting weak now. Drifting in and out. I fall to the floor with a bang. The last thing I say before everything goes dark,

"Finally..."

I see a flash of light. People in my class are screaming and crying out my name.

Why? I'm awake now. Lying in a hospital bed. My wrists in bandages. All I can think is,

Why didn't it work? I should be dead...