The Beauty of suicide
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The thing I want most isn't a phone or a pet or my parents to get back together (although it would be good) no none of those things, the thing I want most is for my mind to shut up, to breathe my last breath so basically I want to die to flout away to into a different world.
"SUNSHINE? Your parents called you sunshine?" He asked shocked
"Shh not everyone needs to know ok" I whisper looking down at my shoes
"Please,please just stick to calling me Matthew" I beg
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#533
stressed
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"Don't you see now why we can't be together?" I whispered at the crazy boy in front of me. "Aren't you repulsed by me? Disgusted? Dis interested? Can't you just tear my heart out and leave like any other normal teenage boy?" My voice cracked. He simply shook his head. "Sweetheart, I thought I made it clear from the first time I said it," He paused, "I. Like. You." He emphasized every word, and I gaped at him. "Hell of a lot, actually, so it'd be great if you stopped being salty and liked me back." "Don't you get it?" I whispered unbelievingly, "After all that, and you still don't get why I can't be with you?" He seemed relaxed, calm. Too calm for this situation. "My life doesn't involve a guy like you, Nathan. Never did. You're not my knight in shinning armor, and you aren't going to save me. This is reality, the real world. And the real world doesn't have happy endings." ---- To me, there's are six different types of crying. One; The Breakdown. Two; The Longing. Three; The Hysterical. Four; The Broken. Five; The Happy. Six; The Inevitable." ---- This short story is very depressing, I'm warning you now. It may trigger memories, or depression symptoms.
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