What's the point in living anymore? Nobody ould miss me. Nobody cares anymore. What would they do if I just dropped dead right now? Woud they scream out "YES!!!"? Or would they ask themselves "Why?"
What's the point? Who would notice if I slit my wrists and/or throat, and slowly bled to death?
I'll admit it. I've had thoughts about killing myself. A lot. I even started cutting, just to get my mind off of other things.
My great grandmother died when I was 5. She had stage 4 lung cancer. The doctors said she had 6 months to live. Well guess what? They were wrong. She died that month. I was so upset, that I stopped sharing my feelings all the time. My grandmother and I, we drifted apart. I stopped sharing my feelings with her, and she stopped asking. I was more alone than when I moved in with her.
When I moved to Portland, I was such a loser. I had a feeling nobody would like me. Then I met Taber Pritchard in 7th grade. I fell in love with him, the first time I saw him. Obviously he didn't feel the same way. It took me a long time to get over him. Now, I don't give a shit about him.
This year, though, I met Alex Hadley.
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Depressed? Suicidal? That's me.
AcciónThe group people put me in is: Depressed. On the outside, they see somebody who's anti-social. Somebody who's Suicidal. Somebody who doesn't give a FUCK about life. And they're right. I am Suicidal. I am anti-social. But what they don't understand...
