A/N: Hey guys!! This is a random short story I just thought of and decided to put on paper, it's a really short read but I do like it. Mentions of su!cide and mental illness so please read with caution. Enjoy <3
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I guess you're reading this in hopes to understand why I actually did this, or maybe looking for answers, asking, 'What did I do wrong?'
'No,' I mutter, exasperated. 'I hate that.'
To whom it may concern-
'Nope. Just no.' I whisper, scrawling over it in thick black pen, before ripping the page out of my notebook.
I honestly don't know how to start...this. It was all figured out in my head, but somehow halfway through the journey from my brain to the paper, the words became tangled. Everything sounds wrong. I know this may come as a shock to you, but I hope it will help you find solace.
I don't expect you to miss me, this is just proof as to why I should die. I do not want a funeral, with the people who call themselves my 'friends' and those who I have been told are my 'family' bathed in black. Nobody should suffer on my accord.
But then again, nobody really cares until you're dead.
