Existence

1. purpose

"where do bad folks go when they die? they don't go to heaven where the angels fly." - Nirvana 

Suicide is selfish.

If you hate your life, change the way you live. 

It just a permanent solution to a temporary problem. 

While these were things Mandy Adair knew, it didn't stop her from picking up the boxcutter on that spring afternoon. She took the long way home that day, giving her more time to think. To accept the fact that today was the day she was going to die. It wasn't that hard to accept, considering her mind was filled with redundant thoughts of how this world would be better off without her. It was the only consistency she had, because the thoughts never ceased. Everyone would come and go, just like her mood. But, her thoughts, well, those were the only things that stayed. 

There could have been a lot of flaws with this plan, but she was a planner. She was one to obsess painstakingly over every single detail of every situation. If there was something out of place, even slightly, it was enough to get on her nerves. It was probably why she hated herself so damn much. There was just so much wrong with her. She loved order, she loved balance. She had this preposterous belief that everything had its place in this world, as well as a purpose. Maybe, it wasn't that odd to think that way. That's what this world is built on anyways. Yet, how can a world built on so much order, possess so much fucking chaos?

It was something Mandy had a hard time understanding. She would spend days looking out of her bedroom window wondering how chaos and order are so different, yet so intertwined. It was like you couldn't have one without the other, but they never seem to cancel each other out. Sometimes, the scales would tip, favoring a certain side. She figured it was safe to say that the scaled weren't tipped in her favor, and no matter how much she wanted order, she was never able to achieve it. 

She hated herself for being so hypocritical. Everything had its rightful place. Everything and everyone had a purpose to fulfill. She knew a little bit, but not enough. It was never enough. That insatiable desire that drove her insane. Her mind, like everyone else's, was made up of fragments. It was made of a bunch of intricate little parts that she spent her life trying to keep together, sacrificing her sanity. She could feel herself moving closer and closer to the edge. With every mistake she made. With every whisper or snicker sent her way in the school corridors. With every pair of eyes that should shamelessly rape her, making her feel naked underneath the clothes she wore. Bit by bit, she felt herself coming apart. The delicately formed spindles of her consciousness were beginning to unwind, completely obliterating who she was. 

She couldn't do anything else but watch. Watch herself be pushed over that edge and fall apart. It was a feeling of immense uselessness. Any action of hers, she would deem futile. Overtime, she just gave up. So she just watched from her rock bottom, as her entire being was split into shards and snippets. The most logical thing to do is search desperately for a core piece of her, to revive the girl she once was before. Yet, she can't find the motivation to do so. 

It is a conflicting feeling you know? To be aware of the fact that physically, you are whole. From the inside looking in, you look fine. Normal even. Then, you're hit with the clear cut clarity of the fact that you aren't whole, not even close. So, she just lived day by day. She played the role she was given. Went where she was told to go. Did what she had to do. 

But in living for others, she forgot how to live. 

Mandy managed to go through life like everyone else though. In all honesty, she was fine. She wasn't happy, nor was she sad. Empty maybe, but fine nonetheless. All it took, was a boy. An empty promise. A beautiful lie. 

It was a tale as old as time, with the modern technological twist. There has always been stories of betrayal. Of the painstaking thing that is unrequited love. There is always someone who falls, while the other walks away like nothing has ever happened. 

No one asked for her side of the story, and deep down, she was glad they didn't. She didn't know what she was supposed to say. It was a long story anyways. Wait, no it wasn't. It was quite simple, really. She was just like the rest. A naive girl who fell for the brown eyes and boyish grin. The one who believed the pretty lies, and would do anything to please him. Willing to do anything to feel like she belonged. Anything, to feel loved. 

So, Mandy did what she had to do.

She played her part. It started with pictures in tight clothing. Then, he wanted pictures of her in her underwear. She obeyed, but he wanted more. He always wanted more. After a while, she succumbed to his constant pleads and revealed herself. Her whole self. 

But, he wanted more. 

She began to wonder why nothing was ever enough for him, but suppressed her confusion with the fact that she loved him. She knew that if you loved someone, you should be willing to do anything for them. 

He came over after school one day, and she knew exactly what was going to happen. They had spoken about it many times before, and she trusted him. She shaved every inch of her body and put on her lace bra. She took extra time on her makeup and spritzed his favorite perfume of hers. 

Their lips clashed and she couldn't help but relish in the feeling. It was all she ever wanted. To be loved. If this was his way of showing it, so be it. She was willing to accept it. His fingers unclasped her bra, and she felt herself squirm under his intense gaze. The brown eyes she fell in love with were cloaked in lust and hunger, and she braced herself for the pain. 

She kissed him goodbye that night, and he muttered a simple "love you." She had no idea that her life after that night would never be the same again. 

The following day at school, she felt everyone's eyes on her. Whispers and condescending glances followed her at every corner, but she couldn't think of a mistake she made. She spotted his brunette mop of hair in the crowd, and decided to go say hi. He was her boyfriend after all. 

"What do you think you're doing?" He scoffed when she leaned in for a kiss. He ignored her confused eyes, and began to laugh. They all began to laugh. The girls called her a slut. The boys wolf whistled and hooted at her. It was at that moment, that she realized everyone knew. 

Sex was supposed to be something sacred. Something that was meant to be privately shared between two people who were in love. If that was the case, then why did he get admirable looks and cheers, while she was cast aside and labeled the school slut?

Mandy was called to the principal's office later that day. Where she was informed that a couple "scandalous" pictures of her were being sent around the school. It was like her whole world came crashing down on her. She trusted him. She couldn't understand why she was facing all the consequences when he was the one who asked for the pictures. It was like she committed some immoral sin. She begged and pleaded for the school not to call her parents, and she left early that day. 

Months passed, and she was still the talk of the school. She thought that overtime, the rumors would die down and she could go back to living her old life. She began to realize that she will never be anything more than the school slut. That maybe she couldn't find her purpose because she refused to accept that this is what it was. That she had nothing left to give, except her body. 

Each word rang in her thoughts, engraving themselves in her mind. Why should she live the rest of her life searching for her place in society? They already decided for her. She was to be cast aside. To be a paradigm of sin. Why should she even look for her purpose when one was already given to her?

The blade that rested in the palm of her hand suddenly felt like it carried the weight of the world, or rather her world. She was ready. This action proved to her that she still had control of her life, of her purpose. She was doing a good thing, ridding the world of her existence. 

The house was silent, but the atmosphere carried the solemn fact that a life was going to end in a couple moments. It was the calm before the storm. Whimpering softly, she dragged the blade deeply across her inner forearm. The tears were falling, and with the little life she had left in her, she wrote a note. 

I'm Sorry.