I Want My Life To End

A Conclusion to Life

           CHAPTER 1: The Beginning

        Hello to anyone reading on whatever device you may find this on. You are already to late if this is being read and can't change what happened to me and why I chose to kill myself, or rather what happened why trying.

Yes I am not alive anymore, yet I'm still alive, in an unknown place typing this out. I may never be saved, and I dont want to in the first place. Being here is much better than what I have experienced in life and I'm glad to be away from the shitty world. I'll tell you about my entire life and what led to this point, but its not pretty, it perfectly defines how fucked up the world really is and why I chose to bring my life to a halt.

          It all began as soon as I were born, yes my first ever memory was of me in a dark basement where I'd hardly ever get fed and my parents beat me for no reason. The very first thing I remember my parents saying is

"You'll never escape as long as you give us extreme pleasure with your pain and suffering".

They were sadists and pieces of shit who made my life a living hell. I learned to deal with the pain as I go older, but that only made the beatings worse. When I was 10 they upped the fucking pain levels, yes instead of the whip I'd been used to they changed the method of torture to a damn electric chair that just barely kept me alive.

They kept telling me "Don't die on us, we need you alive for next time"

Maybe a few weeks or so later I vividly remember my mom whispering to me in secret so my dad couldn't hear her. She said:

"When you turn the age of thirteen you're gonna have sex with me"

I was incredibly scared, I had no idea what that word meant, but i'd kept going about life the same. Being tortured. The agony was unbearable at times, I wanted to die. What was my purpose in life other than being beat to a bloody pulp every single day, there had to be a meaning after all this ended, but would it ever end until they die?

I was now 13 and my mo- no, that bitch did exactly what she said years before. I was raped. She tied me up and made me do things to her while I sat there crying and screaming. That bitch had been filming for her own self pleasure in the future had been so traumatized by this experience and after being hit so long I somehow had become immune to pain. Yes, my body does not feel pain anymore and while I was so glad, my parents were not. This was a major understatement, they were furious with the fact that their only sense of joy, which was making me scream and cry had ceased to work. They let me go when I was 14, knowing I wouldn't talk about this to anyone, or rather couldn't. I was illiterate and could hardly speak a lick of English. I'd lost my only purpose in life which was being beat and now had to live on the streets without any knowledge of the outside world.

This concludes the first chapter of my life as shitty as it is, is important as to how it leads to my inevitable suicide.