Life at ends point

Prolouge

Did it have to be this way? Was life so cruel and unfair that my death was only glory and a prize to the world around me? Everyone left, no one cared about my health anymore. It had been so long and I was the only one who hadn't gotten over it. I never told anyone though, is that my fault? That today I was finally going to move on. I couldn't stand the constant bullying and harassing. My 'friends' thought I was being over dramatic so there was no point in trying to be happy anymore; I was only going to fail.

Was this my fault, I didn't reach out to the people who had first offered their hand. Sighing, something I did quite frequently. It was a way to express myself without saying words, a subtle way to hold back my tears and agony. Was this all my fault, I could've done more. Been a use to the cruel and unforgiving world. My arms filled with fresh cuts and old scars. They were there permanently, on my living breathing body and on the cold dead one too. This was it wasn't it?

Was I being ungrateful? For the life I had been given should I treat it better? Holding the blood crusted knife in my hand, a rope in the other. I didn't want it to end this way. I really didn't. But it didn't seem like there was another option. Another place to escape, where was I supposed to run? Sighing as I strung the looped rope to the ceiling. Standing on a chair holding my breath. The last breath that I would take.