18

Attempting To Attempt

Note to Reader: I'm... I'm sorry. I said I wasn't going to be holding back here.

Warnings: anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide mention, suicide... attempt?, cursing, mentions of self harm, suicide hotline call, cursing

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You're pathetic. Ugly. Fat. Look at you! I've tried to get you to stop eating. That didn't work. I even got you to punish yourself and you STILL didn't do it! What's wrong with you? You don't deserve this body. You don't deserve people calling you pretty. You don't deserve even the physical attraction people have for you. You can't even take Daren of yourself! You can't even stop eating! God what the fuck is wrong with you? You're disgusting!

No...

You're stupid. Pathetic. Fake. You act like you can do homework and handle school. You act smart when he only reason you're doing so well in math last year is because you took it the year previously and were basically just reviewing because you were too lazy to actually try and pay attention.

Stop.

You're fake. A try hard. Disgusting. You try so hard to be happy, like that you are. Then you turn around and leave these out in the opening obvious tells that you're not. You're BEGGING people to see that you have something wrong but you're so scared to depend on people that when people do notice, y I push them away and pretend you'd don't starve yourself. Pretend those are cat scratches or that you fell or that you ran itno a door. Who are you lying to? Surely not them.

It's not.... true....

You might as well just stop existing. Stop breathing. Come on, ASPEN. Come on, you pathetic piece of shit. Come on, Bitch. Come on ASPEN. Stop BREATHING. Stop LIVING. 

Shut up shut up shut up shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup!!!!

Make me.

I couldn't deal with it. The constant self deprecation. The stream of self hate. The eternal self doubt. The endless self loathing. I hated myself. I hated that I WAS myself. That I had my thoughts and my memories and my life.

All I wanted was for it to stop. The voices. The pain. The bad feelings. Everything. I just need it all to stop!

Never in all my life had I moved so chopping. So half undecided. I took a step and then stumbled as my other leg stopped me. But hat only propelled me forward. I stumbled-walked into the master bedroom, scrambling around panickedly. I searched every nook and cranny. I needed it. I knew it was here, I was so close. I could make it. I could get to it before my need went away.

And then I saw it.

Tucked away between eh top of the books and the shelf above it. In a bookshelf. It wasn't even cased. My dad didn't leave these just around. It just so happened on the one day when I finally decided to end all my shitty pathetic-ness, it was here. Just enough in the open to be seen. Waiting to say hello. Waiting...for me.

My hands wrapped around the cold, small, metal object.

A gun.

It was surprisingly light and fight in my hand well. I was familiar with this weapon. My fingers placed themselves correctly without having to think about it.every bit of sense that my step dad had knocked into me screamed as my finger gently rested against the trigger. Not pulling or adding any pressure at all. Just resting. Waiting. Ready.

Move, I commanded my arm. It did not respond. I glared.

Just do it. No one will miss you.