When You OD On Life

Instead of cutting, I’ll work on my dreads.

Considering I can’t find my razor blade anyways *rolls eyes*

Guess I’ll take my meds, call my baby, and go to sleep.

French 4, and American History exams tomorrow.

Wish me luck guys

Anonymous asked: you're a pice of shit for that

I know I’m a piece of shit. She deserves way better than me. And I’m trying to recover, for her and for me, but it’s not easy. Thank you for reminding me how shitty of a person I am.

You’re sitting at your desk, and you know it’s time to go. You’ve said that to yourself over a million times, but this time you know, for sure, is real. You’re tired… you’re just so very tired. You’re parents pissed you off, like school wasn’t bad enough today. You go to get the rope, or the knife, or the gun or whatever you choose to use because you’re that desperate. You’re ready. You think of it as some game… the first one dead is the one who wins. No ones home, it’s the perfect time. You’re ready. If you don’t do it, you’re gonna look down on yourself even more forever. You’re just going to hate yourself even more. No one knows, no one will know… until tomorrow. Instead of getting a paper and a pen, you get the video camera out, along with a chair. You’re standing on the chair. You decided to go with the rope… you’re gone instantly and there will be no noise. One side of the rope is tied to the top of your fan and the other is already around your neck. You’re in tears, you know it’s for real this time. You turn on the video camera and just stare at the red light blinking upon your eyes. You start to mumble out a few words. “Mom and dad, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m sorry, but I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Please don’t blame yourself, please. I love you both, and tell my siblings the same. I’ll see you all soon.” You say sorry to your best friend because you know you won’t be there for him anymore when he needs you more than ever. You say sorry to everyone you could think of… even yourself. You’re sorry for not being strong anymore. You’re sorry for breaking down. You’re sorry for putting them through so much pain in their life. You stare, once again, at the red light blinking upon your eyes. One foot is off the chair now as you begin to mouth the word goodbye. You have the remote control to turn off the camera in your hand. You clicked the off button and as soon as you see that light go off, you go off. Both feet are now off the chair… the chair is on the floor… the room is filled with silence. You’re dead. You’re gone. There is no going back. Everything is over. You don’t have to live in pain anymore… but everyone else will. What are your parents going to think? What about your little brother, or little sister? What are they going to do? You’re gone. You’re dead. There is no going back. You ended your life because the person of your dreams only thinks of you as friends. You ended your life because that one teacher was harder on you than anyone else in the class because she knows you’re the only one that is going somewhere in life. Your parents are home. They call your name telling you their home, just like they normally do when they get home…. but something’s different. You don’t answer. They get worried… you always answer. They come upstairs thinking your sleeping or showering. Your mom opens your bedroom door and screams at the top of her lungs. She instantly passes out. Now your little brother comes up after her. He screams “DADDY HELP!!!!” He runs over to you hitting your leg begging you to wake up. “WAKE UP, WAKE UP. PLEASE STOP WAKE UP”. But you don’t answer, you’re not waking up. You’re gone. You’re dead. There is no going back. Your dad comes running upstairs and all he could do is stare. He watches his baby girl swing back and forth on a rope. He sees the video camera and he sees the chair. But he doesn’t move. He’s stiff as a board. He cries…. Your dad NEVER cries. He picks up the phone and calls 911. He can barely get the words “My daughter committed suicide” out of his mouth. Your little sister stares at your dad. Your dad hangs up and your little sister jumps into your dad’s arms, crying harder than ever. She’s too young to understand completely, but she knows you’re gone. You’re dead. There is no going back. Everything is over. The cops finally arrive. They push your dad and sister out of your room and sit them in the living room. They take your body down off the ropes and lay you on the stretcher. They cover your body and out you go… just like that. You’re gone. You’re dead. There’s no going back. Nothing is the same. Two weeks have passed and your mom still stares out the window more than half of the day. Your little sister still hasn’t returned to school. Your dad is forced to go to work so he can pay all the bills for your wake and funeral. Eventually, they found to strength to go into your room. Your door hasn’t been open for months. The rope is still laying on the floor and the video camera is still sitting on the table. They don’t even dare to watch the video, it will never be seen. They slowly pick up the rope and throw it in the garbage. Chills run up their spine, your mom basically in tears. They brush off your bed, making it neat… like they used to do every morning after you went to school. Your bed was made and your room was clean. They shut the door, and it remained shut. Your school is still in distress. You thought no one cared and you thought no one noticed you. The girl that said no to being your lab partner, yeah she cuts every single night now because she thinks it’s her fault you died. The boy that tripped you by accident and didn’t say sorry, yeah he’s in suicidal therapy 5 days a week in a hospital because he feels a smile could of saved your life and he didn’t give that to you. The teacher that was hard on you that day, she quit her job because she felt she wasn’t suited to teach anymore. You’re gone. You’re dead. There’s no going back. 4 years have passed. Your little sister is now 15 years old. She started a club in her school dedicated to you. “Secrets” is what he calls it. The club is formed for kids to speak their hearts, without anyone judging them. They can say anything they want to, and talk about anything they needed to. If they were suicidal, they always had someone. That was your problem. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. You had everything bottled up inside of you. You acted as if you were the happiest kid on the planet and you had the perfect life. You played that character so well that even you started to believe it. You would be so “happy” and as soon as you layed in bed at night, the thoughts came back. A little fight between you and your parents could have set you off. But with everything inside of you bottled up for years, it hit your limits. You’re gone. You’re dead. There’s no going back. Your room will never be occupied. Your mom still cries every single night. Your dad isn’t as strong as he used to be. Your little sister will never grow up with you by her side moving her in the right direction. Your best friend is still torn up. Your school now has a club dedicated to you so teens will not make the same mistake you did. Your life was precious and you took it away in the blink of an eye. All you needed was a smile, that’s all you needed. But since you’re gone, just know people cared. People always have cared. You were just way too upset to see that. You were just too caught up in the fact that you thought no one cared… when the truth was, more people cared about you that you ever thought they would. Your town will never be the same. A girl is gone, a special girl who thought no one cared. Everyone cared. I promise you. They care, they always have cared. We loved you, and no matter what, we will still always love you.

*cries*

(Source: delirious-simplicity, via slitwrists-and-brokenhearts)

obesitycore:

shout out to my parents for making such an ugly emotionally unstable kid

(Source: obesitycoreisnolongerhereok, via slitwrists-and-brokenhearts)

aleetlepinch:

Miss someone? Paint a helium balloon like their face. Deflate it. Put it in your back pocket.

They’re still gone and that was weird advice.

(via panicatthedubstep)

Anonymous asked: doesnt she get hurt when you cut?

..yes and that’s the only reason I’ve started cutting less and less. I’m trying my hardest not to right now…

Anonymous asked: your gf should die.

You should die you dumb cunt for ever putting this in my fucking ask box. My girlfriend and I will live a long and happy life together while you rot in a cheap ass casket 6 feet under with nobody at your funeral.

Huge rant on my personal blog.