Random stories I make in my mind

Death

They said everyone had a choice, a choice on how to make friends, a choice on who to love.
I never got that choice, everything was decided for me before I was ever conceived, my opinion my choice was taken from me before I had a single thought. Sometimes I think back on my younger years, back when I was in primary school.....those weren't good times. I was bullied for something I had no control over, my actions weren't my choice. I was shunned for the way that I thought and acted, my choice of freedom was stolen from me. I was dubbed a smart kid who could do everything but now I'm merely average, my choice of how I perceived my self was snatched from me. As the years went on in primary school it got easier. I learned how to fake being dumb and smart, I learned how to fake a smile, laugh, cry. I learned how to deceive everyone around me and I revelled in it. Watching people trying to understand how I worked was always entertaining to me. The only person who knew me for me was me and I didn't want that to change. Unfortunately not wanting to change isn't a choice I was given. I was put on drugs, a controlling substance that limited my non-existence choices even more. By the time I left primary school I had become the very masks I had put up, the masks that were meant to protect me from others judgment. Middle school was a bit better, there was still no one like me but I found solace in a friend I can happily call the only person to have seen me for me. Then change stuck and my choices were once again flashed in my eyes before disappearing. I was moved to a school closer to a house I lived in and everything went down from there. I was once again judged for every little thing I did.
I wanted to die. I hated this new school so I put anything sharp to my body and swiped. I still remember the first cut, it was exhilarating, finally I had my a choice of my own, my own freedom. Soon I became addicted and new masks formed. My mum tried to help but in reality she made it worse. As the years went on I continued to cut, each little red line getting deeper and deeper as my thoughts got darker and darker. Soon I become reclusive, quiet, silent. My mum by the end of my middle school years had given up and ignored what was clearly in front of her face, my choice of help had been taken back and even now I don't regret what did. Then came the attempts, they started off small, not so serious. Just a little of trial hanging, up wright slitting and attempted overdosing. Each time getting more and more serious before it was all I could think about. Waking up became I chore that I despised. Then came high school. High school sucked especially at my old school, everything was hard, no break, no breath, no choice. I finally had enough half way through year 11 after a play triggered me quiet badly. I went to the house I lived in and got any medicines I had. Gathered on my bed and counted them, I had enough. I tried hanging, failed, I tried slitting my throat, failed, it was time to go out the old fashion way. I gathered all the medicine on my bed and took them. I played all my favourite music and read the last chapter of my supposed last books and fell asleep, I had hoped forever. When I woke up I cried, I had failed in the one thing I had hoped I didn't. My choice of death vanished.