Diary Of A Suicidal Teen

Entry 8

I don't know how, but I'm still here with only a sore neck and a bruising on my cheek. The fan broke down from the ceiling. It landed next to my head, but slightly hit my cheek. Worse part about it was nobody even came up to question the noise. Nobody noticed, as usual.

I mean, I don't really even know what to do anymore. Every attempt I make doesn't work. Somehow I get my life back.

So tonight is a final attempt. I'm not going through the whole week. If it doesn't work, I'm killing myself tomorrow with a knife.

I took one of my father's pistols and a box of ammunition while they were at work. They're still gone. They won't even notice I'm gone.

Before I load the fun, I open my door so they will be able to see what the horrible life I lived lead up to. With that, I walk straight across the room and load the gun, then I notice something, the ammunition isn't right for this pistol.

I rush back to my parents room to find the correct ammunition, but then I hear footsteps downstairs to signal somebody was home, so I drop the stuff back into the drawer and make a b line to my bedroom where I lock myself in and get my knife.

So, I guess this was short... Oh well. Goodbye.

I know for a fact this time, I won't make it through.

So here is my final goodbye.


(THERE IS STILL MORE COMING, DONT WORRY YOURSELVES.)