A Living Death

My Only Way Out

It was September 11, 1998 when I was born. I was small, fragile... weak. BriaLynn Blake Bryan. 6 lbs. 4 oz. 19 in. long. Smooth, caramel-toned skin, large green eyes, jet black hair. Daughter of Blake and Lynne Bryan. Memphis, TN. Time of birth: 12:00 AM sharp. This was the day that I live to regret. This was the moment that everything changed.

I remember being five. I remember laughing and smiling, just how any child that age would. Except... my childhood wasn't like yours.

I was fifteen years old when I committed suicide. I had reached a point of no return. But my life had already ended before I offed myself. I guess I had some stuff going for me. I had parents that loved me and grandparents that loved me, but outside of home, I was a nobody. And I've heard the speech over and over again: "You're worth something! You're so valuable to life! You're meant to be here, you have a purpose!" Really? Purpose? Value? I was a nobody. No one cared. No one heard my screams. No one listened to my cries for help. No one gave a RIP about me EVER... that was... until I was dead.

I remember that day perfectly. I remember getting chewed out for cutting again and picked on for all the weight loss. I remember my parents threatening to throw me back in the mental facility if I didn't get my act together. I remember my teachers, too scared to even look at me, because they didn't know what to say or do. Most people at school thought I was a freak. No one cared. I had lost more friends than I knew I had. I was being harassed on the internet. Bullied to death, I guess you could say...

"Fat slut," they called me. "Anorexic freak," ; "gothic," "emo,"... That's not even the worst of it: SLUT.! GO KILL YOURSELF, FREAK. YOU NEED TO GO THROW UP TO GET RID OF THOSE EXTRA POUNDS, FAT GIRL. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ANYWAY?? I KNOW YOU LOST YOUR VIRGINITY TO THAT DISGUSTING GUY. SO WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO HOOK UP WITH HIM AND THEN CUT YOURSELF SOME MORE, LOSER?! You're a bitch. You're a mother fucking bitch. Twig bitch. I'm not afraid of your stupid ass. You think you're something, don't you? No one will ever love you. No one likes you. You're a sick, emo freak. You wear too much makeup, and it's not like it helps anyway. You're ugly, too skinny, and you're just fucking disgusting. Go take a shower. Your hair is greasier than my hamburger, which you should probably eat and then go throw it back up.

I would say more, but it's too much to bring back up. I remember starring at the screen through the blur of my tears. Suicide was my only way out.