being more serious. i want to write a book,want to see if i can capture an audience first.
|Jacks, 16, suicide case
I stand in front of the mirror staring at the broken soul that lies beneath my skin. I sighed and pushed my unruly black hair out of my pudgy face. How could anyone like someone like me? I’m too skinny, I’m not athletic, I’m not even popular. I’m 16 years old awkwardly built, I wear thick rimmed glasses and hide under huge coats. I was stupid enough to believe that a guy at my school was vaguely interested in me. He was really nice for about a week, then he took me out. I thought we were having a great time, I thought he actually enjoyed being in my presence. We stopped for a bathroom break, when I came out he had a group of people surrounding him. He acted like I didn’t even exist, and they all left. He didn’t even acknowledge me, or bother to give me a ride home. I felt invisible. Completely inexistent. After the eight mile walk back I had to climb through a window to get in my house. my work obsessed mother had locked my out, yet again. And now here I am, standing in front of a mirror, telling myself how worthless I am. “why can’t you be normal!” I scream at myself punching the innocent mirror. I took in a deep breath, blood dripping from my knuckles. All I could think about is how mad my mother would be, she probably wouldn’t even notice my mangled hand. “clean up the mess Jacklynn” I could almost hear her demanding yet disappointed tone. I stared at my hand, a sizeable chunk of mirror inlodged into my index knuckle. I could see my dull green puffy eye staring back at me. I glared at my worthless reflection and slowly pulled the mirror out of my hand ,a wave of pain crashing through me, like falling face first into traffic. I took in a giant breath of air, tears falling down my face I slid the chunk down my arm, my head was so crammed full of hateful thoughts I didn’t even notice myself falling to the floor I was entranced by the red flowing out of my body. I laughed, tears falling down my face, mixing in with the blood. I repeated the cut on my other arm, I’m not left handed so the cut was difficult, it ended up in a zigzag down my arm. My head is spinning from the loss of blood. My eyes droop slightly, I rub them with my hand, crying out in pain as my own blood betrays me. I feel blind. My last thoughts before I blackout is don’t worry it’s not like anyone will miss you.