A negative mind will never give you a positive live.“Hey watch it!” Shouted Anastasia. She looked me up and down and scrunched her perfect nose.
“You stink. Have you every heard of anything called a bath?” she asked waving her hand at front of her face as a gesture of disgust.
Anastasia was the societies definition of perfect. Long wavy blonde hair that went down to her waist. She styled it differently every day. She had emerald green eyes. And when she blinked them and bashed her lashes everybody would be down at her feet, ready to obey her order. And ready to follow her command.
She nudged me hardly on my shoulder.
“Watch it loser. I don't want to get your contagious disease!” she shouted for everyone to hear. Everyone in the hallway who was now listening to her burst into hysterical laughter. They were all pointing at me and laughing.
“Loser, loser, loser!” they all chanted in union. The words echoed through my head as I walked down the hallway acting as if didn't care. Outside I am smiling but inside I am dying!
I ran through the hallways. This isn't the worst it has been. They normally physically abuse me, leave bruises on my body. But the worst thing they do is the mental abuse. The words leave a mark on my heart that cannot be erased. When they call me names that keep on echoing through my mind. They always remind me of my imperfections. How fat I am, how ugly I am, how I should die, how I am not worth it and how I don't deserve to live. I don't disagree with them, I mean I am a waste of space. All I am is another fat , freckled, ginger who cannot stand up for herself! I should be dead! Why am I even alive. Everyday I am on the verge of ending my life, of putting a stop to it all. All I need is a chair and a rope and then I can end this misery. I can finally be at peace and society can finally get rid of me. Isn't that what everyone wants. I think this everyday,every time and every second of my life. I cut myself. My razor is my best friend, it helps forget about all my pain and imperfections. My razor is the only thing that is there for me. The cuts on my arms are pretty, they are kind of like battle scars, they show my struggles and my triumph. With my father being a druggie and my mother being dead, I have literally nobody!
I do not tell anyone, I am silent... silently screaming! I have broken all the mirrors in my house because I cannot stand to see my face. To see how every single little comment they make about me is true. I put my razor to my wrist and slice it open. When I see my bleeding wrists that is when I realise that this is reality and not some nightmare that will soon be over. I will not wake up to my sweet mothers voice, I will not see my dad ever again as a sweet and decent man in a suit. I will never truly smile again. The blood shows me the reality of it all! They ignore me and I won't exist. I am not the kind you'll come to miss. If you ask me what depression is like, this would be my answer: it is like being stuck in a pit of guilt an imperfection and not seeming to be able to get out. Seeming stuck and isolated form the whole world. Seeming as if no one cares. Feeling worthless and not needed. Crying but no one hearing your screams. That is why depression is like...
Because I am losing my sight, losing my mind. I wish somebody would tell me I am alright. Because I am losing my sight losing my mind. Nothing is alright, nothing is fine. I am running and I am crying. And dying inside!
My favourite poem is:
she paints a lovely picture.
But there is a shocking twist.
The paint brush is her razor
and the canvas is her wrist.
She paints her a lovely picture
in a colour that is blood red
while using her sharp paintbrush
she ends up finally dead
her pretty pictures fading
quite slowly on her arm
the blood is not racing through her,
she can longer do harm,
she painted a lovely picture,
but her picture has a twist,
you see her mind was her razor
and her heart was her wrist.
You can see this quote is representing my life. It feels as if the person wrote it watching my life through a window, that I how this poem makes me feel. I walked up to my room and I locked the door. The door to my life and happiness because I know it isn't true. People who tell you about happy endings all hey are telling you is beautiful lies. The only moment you have a happy ending is when you look like Anastasia and if you don't you will see the shocking side of life, a side that is hidden to many. I took the chair away form my computer desk. I took a rope that hid in a box underneath my bed. I kissed it slowly, this would be my key to the afterlife. I told myself.
Because you are worthless, stupid, a waste and you should be dead. All you do is annoy everybody. You own father hates you because if he didn't he wouldn't be doing this. He wouldn't be doing drugs and coming once in a week home reeking of beer.
In my life the sky is never blue and the sun never shines. You see my mother was my compass through this life. and now she is gone and I am lost. I am lost in this darkness called life. And I can see a light at the end of the tunnel and the only way I can reach that light is b y ending this misery. My razor helped me through her darkness and the rope will help me reach the light. It feels like I am screaming and no one can hear. When my teacher's ask how I am doing I tell them I am okay... isn't that what I am meant to say?my classmates taught me the pain of loneliness! Everyday I stop myself from doing it, I tell myself don't worry tomorrow it will be different It will eventually change. They will realise the pain they are causing you. But no, everyday I tell myself lies,they will they will do what they do, the tears will remain and the pain shall never die. Nothing will ever change! In my life every thought is a battle, every breath is a war and I don't think I am winning any more. So shall we make it all just simpler by ending it all?
This is my final message to the world:
dear people at my school. I am sorry that I am so weird.
I am sorry I don't fit in....
I am sorry I cant be pretty like all of you!
Dear myself, I am sorry I was ever born.
I am sorry I hurt you.
I am sorry I put you down.
I am sorry I made you miserable.
But like a promised so many times, it all coming to a end now.
My enemy has showed me how, how to make it all end.
How to end my struggles my tears. Isn't that quite ironic.
They showed me what a blade can do, how it can relief all my pain.
They showed me how a rope can bring me to the light.
And now I am ready. For my soul to be hefted out this miserable body. I am ready to float in the heavens above with a real smile on face. I remember how that felt...
moral message of this story is do not judge a book by it's cover. Just because someone is certain something does not give you any right to treat them differently. Everyone is human, we have the right to be treated equally. You don't know the struggle anyone is facing. You can simply not begin to understand what you are pushing them to by calling them those words that seem so harmless to you. They might seem like the end button to someone else. They might seem the words that will convince them to end their life. You are literally pushing them off a cliff! Bullying leads to suicide. And if someone commits suicide just because you said a couple of harmful words to them you are classed as a murderer. You are the reason they ended their life. Their mother might have died. Their father might abuse them, how do you know what they go through? The girl you might have called fat might starve herself to death with that thought swarming through her mind. You are the murderer here! So stop, stop and stop! Put a end to bulling... does anyone deserve this horrible end. To end their life? You say suicide is cowardly. Well I will tell you what cowardly is: treating someone so terrible they want to end their life. What kind of monster are you? And the message to all you getting bullied is:
Do not take to heart what those bullies say to you. Because you are beautiful no matter what they say. You are different so what? It called originality something many lack. And for you to have it... you should be proud. And tell a teacher. Never, every self harm. Are they worth you scars. Are they really worth all that pain. All they are is stupid, little, weak and fragile children who think they are better than you. Show them what you are saying isn't getting to me. By committing suicide or doing self harm you are letting them win... is that really what you want. To give your bullies the ossification they need.... I don't think so! So pay no attention to those who talk behind your back. It only means you are two steps ahead of them . They want to drag you down to their level of stupdity... don't let that happen!