Die

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[Another one of these stories I'd grown so fond of writing.]

Trigger Warning

Die

I crawled out the window and onto the rooftop. I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt freedom. That fucking house was so fucking suffocating.

I closed my eyes as I lay on my back. The cool night breeze fell across my face.

Pulling out a cigarette and a lighter, I lit up and took a long drag. "What is the fucking point of this?" I sighed. "Why the fuck do I even exist?"

I found my self-loathing intensified with each word. I wanted to die so fucking badly.

Taking the cig out of my mouth I stared at it. Then I took the hot end and pressed it on my arm. I breathed out and lifted it up. A new scar was added to the others.

"Fuck you!" I screamed. "FUCK YOU!" I didn't know exactly who I was yelling to. To god? To my parents? To myself?

All at once a feeling that was unbearable came over me. I pushed myself up and stood. Walking to the edge, I breathed deeply. Peace settled over my mind. I was doing this. It was a long time coming and tonight was the night.

A twisted smile appeared on my face. "Bye, mommy." I grinned. "Bye, daddy." I grinned wider. "Fuck all of you." I breathed deeply, leaned forward and... fell.

It happened so quickly. A whoosh, a thud, and then searing white pain. There was a fizzling feeling at my toes and it began to move upward. Suddenly I could no longer feel anything below my waist. This must be dying. I thought.

This is what I wanted. I thought again.

Spots appeared in front of my vision. The fizzling feeling reached my belly button.

This is what I need.

My world blurred. The fizzling reached my breasts.

It's my time. I'm worthless.

Everything below my shoulders was gone.

No one will miss me.

Nothing below my neck could be felt. My vision began to blacken.

I can finally be happy.

I could only see tiny circles now. And I couldn't feel anything. A crooked smile appeared on my face as my vision became entirely black.

Goodbye world! My mind thought happily.

Then I breathed out and finally...

Let go.

Paisley Marin's DiaryМесто, где живут истории. Откройте их для себя