I'm Still Here

Prologue

No matter what we do, we will all die. Eventually we will. Some people ignore the feeling of dying, others think they might as well get it over with. I, sadly, want to get it over with. I just don't get the point of living. I'm probably gonna live a useless life anyway. So why waste the time. Right?

I don't have any friends, I'm serious. I have zero. I'm that goth kid that sits alone at lunch. The one at the back of the class room that get average grades. The one you didn't notices until now. I don't blame you for not noticing I wouldn't notice either. I tell myself I don't care if people notice me, but in reality I do. A lot. I guess everyone cares.

I have scars. On my wrists. Thighs. Sides. Upper arms. They are pointless. Why did I even scar myself? It didn't even distract me. I guess it did for about 5 minutes, but 5 minutes is nothing really.

My name? Well it's Lizy, Elizabeth Rose Morton. I'm 16 years old. I have long black hair and pale skin. Who would have guessed? My therapist called me insane and unstable, but he thinks going to school and living a "normal" life will help me get over my depression. Bullshit.

Do you ever feel like ending it? Life, I mean? But when you're about to finally do it you think about someone you love, your family, friends, boyfriend/girlfriend. I guess my mom and dad, and sometimes my brother, are the only reason I'm still here. That depressing fact that I am still here. I will never do it, because of them. They want me to be happy. They want me to smile and have friends and make happy memories. I don't know how to though. I don't remember. That's sad.

I was born, then my mom named me after my dead grandma. I never met her, but I heard she was a lovely woman. When I turned 5 I got my first, and last, best friend, Ellie, she was also 5, she was happy and giggly. Well until she got cancer, she got it almost everywhere, apparently. She was diagnosed when she was 13 and lived until she was 15. As soon as she heard she only had 2-3 months left she got really depressed. I tried to help, I taught her piano, and violin, but she could barely move from the cancer and the depression. Everyday I would come over after school, but she just kept getting worse. It wasn't always the cancer, it was the way she thought about dying.

One day, when her parents went out, I came over to check on her and found Ellie slicing her wrists open with shards of the mirror's glass. I called the hospital immediately and saved her. If only I could be that lucky twice. Again her parents when out about 2 weeks after the first incident and I came over to check on her. I was 5 minutes too late. Her pain pills spilled all over the floor and her boney, pale, sickly, body was next to them.

Ellie didn't have any friends. It was just her and I. I just wish I was 5 minutes earlier. After she died, I fell into my own never ending depression. Not as suicidal as Ellie, but depression is depression, it sucks ass no matter what.

I never had a boyfriend or girlfriend. I've never had a regular friend. Ellie was all I needed. We were happy. Now she is gone and I'm stuck in this shitty life! Well it isn't that shitty, my parents get me basically everything I want. I have food, clothes, a bed, and I can have showers whenever I want.