Bang. That's how it always ends.
In my slumber I face the same dream every night. It begins with an icy cold barrel pressed to my temple. Tear trickle down my face. I look straight ahead in the mirror. The moonlight shines upon me so I can see my reflection. Yet the person I face is not me. This me is laughing and calling me coward. Repeating the line "pull the trigger." Her voices echos in mind. It's sweet but full of lies. She continues to taunt me. I beg her why must I pull the trigger.
"Your hideus. Your a monster. No one cares about. This is your wish not mine. "
I scream at her your lying. Sobs scorch from me. But I still withhold the gun against my head. Why? It's like that arm is frozen. Then my mind becomes jumble. I can't decide what to do and then suddenly there's a moment of clarity that is released from one single bang.
It's scary. I'm so sacred. some nights it feels so real. As if its not a dream its real. I don't know anymore. The dream feels so real. The only thing that keeps it a dream is that I don't own a gun. I'm afraid though. I'm afraid my subconscious has given up. It's telling me, my time is up. I no longer can keep going. It wants to end my suffering with a bang. It always ends with a bang.
YOU ARE READING
Suicidal Journal
Teen FictionEnter a mind of one who is confused. Someone who has no one to talk to. Someone who agonizes in pain and desperation. This is a story about a typical teen's suicidal journal. *please note that this story is written poetically*
