I live alone as far as I remember I was always alone. My family died when I was little. I was supposed to die too but I survived. People around me think that it's my fault they died.
Everyone hates me. Am I really responsible for their death? I was a curse for them. I wanted to ask them if they got hurt while dying or did they pass away peacefully?
I looked at my pathetic reflection in the bathroom mirror. I was thinking about them. Death hurts, I know. I couldn't but only cry. I'm disgusted by how weak I am.
I tried to catch some sleep. But my trauma didn't let me but I had to get some sleep. I haven't been sleeping for days now. I stood up and headed towards my table. I took out my sleeping pills and gulped one of them down.
I head back towards my bed and the memory of that car accident flashed. My mom held my hands tight, my dad screamed.
Anger took over me. If only I could do something. If only.........................
I gulped down the other pills too, overdosing myself. I took another look at the broken, pathetic, sick, weak figure in the mirror staring back at me.
I grabbed my jacket and went out. The sun was cruel.
My head felt dizzy. My legs turned weak. The pills took their action huh?
My body hit the pavement hard. My eyelids grew heavy. I looked at the world one more time before exhaling my last breath.
