The Suicide Letters

Chapter 1

I had to write a paper.

"Those seconds when a thought crosses your mind and you then remember that the thought that lasted for 13 seconds now became your reality. That when you see the reality from it all, you just want to kill yourself because you thought that it wouldn't be as bad, but when you enter reality, nothing ever seems to go your way. That is just how reality hits you when you don't even know it," I told my 9th grade class, reading some of my paper aloud. Some kids looked at me oddly, and some looked at me like I was about to leave the room and go take some more pills, so that I would kill myself. That wasn't the case here. All I wanted to do was tell what I felt inside that I honestly couldn't contain inside of my body anymore. My teacher, Mr. Mathews, asked me to read more of it out to the class, and I honestly didn't want to.

"One day I'm going to give up. I am going to give up on myself. My whole body is going to give up because how can I hold in all these emotions and not store them anywhere. There is no digestive system for emotions and you can't digest your words before you speak if you've already preached your real thoughts in the church of loneliness, sang them out in your own choir of sadness, and recite them from your own bible. You can't digest your words before you speak because you've already spoken them before they even got to reach your mouth. Your thoughts came straight out of your brain and they came out flying like bees out of a hive. When you have something to say, say it, before your thoughts run through your whole body and you lose your spot as if your words were pages and you've taken out the bookmark," I read out, when my teacher stopped me to dismiss me from the class.

"Mom?" I asked when I walked into the house, holding my essay in my hand that read C- on the top right hand corner.

"Yes dear! I'm in the kitchen!" she shouted out to me.

"Well, you know that essay I wrote for English?"

"Yes, that wonderfully written paper! Did you get an A+?"

"Not exactly... I got a C-,"

My mom said nothing. Her face went blank, and stuck out her arm, pointing up to my room. I then depressingly walked up to my bedroom, sitting on my bed to cry.

Thirteen minutes I sat there on my bed, planning my next attempt. I grabbed a sheet of lined paper from my binder and titled it "Suicide Attempt 3". Quickly, I wrote down some ideas that would be beneficial to everyone around me.

C'mon Stephanie, you can do better than that. You're worth more than this, and you know it. Those things that people say don't matter. Don't listen to them. All they want is for you to kill yourself, and guess what? If you do, they will pick on more and more people who are insecure, until one day, they kill themselves as well. Be strong because I know you can be. You just need to find that girl that was Stephanie Gunther before all of this happened.

You know that you are special. Don't let people tell you that you aren't.

I didn't know what that voice was in my head, but I knew it had to be someone. A voice that I don't recognize, but I do recognize. That voice was stuck in my head. The way the words slid into my mind was like magic. Who was this? Why was this voice telling me these things?

I stared at the blank piece of paper in front of me. I began to wonder what I should do next, but I didn't know. That was the problem. I didn't know how I would kill myself next. Then, I remembered that my mom had some pills in her bathroom cabinet. I jotted down that idea ever so quickly on the blank piece of paper.

When I finished writing, I ran to my mom's bathroom, and opened her cabinet. Then I saw them. That tan looking plastic filled with the half red and white pills, which were actually quite small.

That was when I got a call from Melanie. My iPhone buzzed on the countertop of the bathroom, showing up that I missed a call from her. At that moment, I knew I had to take the pills because I might not ever get that chance again. Text messages started to appear on my iPhone screen. One by one, they were texts like:

Melanie: Stephanie! Stephanie what are you doing!?

Please stop doing whatever you're doing and call me back!

Your mom isn't answering her phone either and I'm worried about you! Please stop!

Don't do anything stupid please!

Stephanie I'm coming over! Don't do anything stupid! Call me back!

I really needed to do it. Nobody was going to care if I had died or not, because I am a disappointment to everyone.I can't just snap my fingers and be okay. That was when I heard a knock at my front door. I knew that it was open, also that if it wasn't Melanie would know where we hide the spare key.

The bottle wouldn't open up. I tried and tried to open the bottle of pills that would soon take over my life. They wouldn't budge. No matter how hard I tried. They just wouldn't budge. Melanie came quickly running in, while I was in the midst of tears.

"I just want to die, I just want to die!" I whispered aloud.

Melanie looked at me, when a small tear fell from her eye, as she looked away, saying, "This is what you become. A suicide freak who wants to die more and more every day is now my best friend. Wow..."