Dear whomever this may concern,
I have nothing worth hiding, not anymore. If my parents and teachers already know, how much worse could it get for me? My friends still have no idea, they still see me as shy. Never my name, and the word “suicide”, never could they possibly be connected.
Only the word missing.
That is what I plan upon. It’s early fall here in Ohio, the leaves are beginning to change their colors, buckeyes falling to the ground, the air is getting cooler with every passing day. I was warned early on to never eat anything I find in the woods, and with eight years of camping and scouting, I know the difference between poisonous and safe. I know the difference, and I plan to act upon it.
See, if I leave a runaway note, no one would ever believe that I should be dead. I’ve convinced my parents that I am no longer suicidal, but so much crap happens in my house, it’s a wonder how none of us have run away yet. There happen to be seven of us living under one roof, and right now my oldest sibling’s friend needs a place to crash, so there are eight currently. I get along solely with my oldest brother, Eric. I don’t get along with his friend, I don’t get along with my parents, I don’t get along with my two sisters, and I don’t get along with my other brother.
I’m the goody-good everywhere, but in my house, I’m the black sheep. I’m the youngest and the most ignored. I’m the least socially active, yet I tend to talk the most. I’m neck and neck with Eric for the best grades of all the children, and the only one who knows how to camp. By that, I mean that I am the only one of us seven that knows how to tell poison ivy/poison oak from perfectly safe weeds. I’m the only one who knows how to pick up black widows without being bitten. I’m the only one who knows how to build a fire without matches or a lighter. You learn all this stuff when you have been camping for eight years. I plan on using these skills.
See, I live very close to a metro park, it’s basically my backyard. It’s the largest park in my area of Ohio. I can hide until I’m ready to die. I’ll hide until I’m ready to commit suicide. I know what plants are poisonous, I know what animals to watch for, I know how to hide in the dense trees. Yes, it will be thought upon that I fled into this forest, but think about it. If I am always running, they won’t catch me. They couldn’t catch me. I’m fast, and I am smart enough to not get caught.
Once the leaves have started falling off the trees I will go in search of my eternal resting place. At least until the spring. But by then, it will be thought of me to be dead. In the spring, when my body will be found, no one will be surprised. On my person they’ll find my dairy, put in wax paper and in a gallon bag to protect it from the elements. I will be dead, and they will find every reason in that account of my short life. I will put what I used to kill me, if not able to physically put a sample, then I shall leave a name and description.
The leaves will start to fall within the next two weeks. I have so little time to say goodbye. But, I shouldn’t live in a world where all I can find is pain. I shouldn’t live in a world, though green with His mercy, that I can only see in black and white. I shouldn’t live in a world where everyone I have ever cared about, has hurt me. It isn’t worth it.
I’m thirteen years old. Why is this happening to me? I’ve been suicidal since age four, yes, four years old. I’ve always wanted to know what death feels like, and I’ve waited almost a decade! Why should I not find out now? I know what living feels like. It feels like pain, it feels like it will never ever end. It feels numb, and horrible, and everything bad. I refuse to cry, and I refuse to live in this world where I am denied.
~Dieing in my dreams~
1 comment
midnight_daydreamer,
you are 13, but you think like 19.
you are here, in this life, for a purpose.
The purpose from your past life.
An unfinished business.
The more you carry along your past life memory with you to this life, the more you feel miserable, and the more you feel outgrown the wisdom than others, and the sooner you start feeling miserable.
And the purpose you definitely will encounter, but not definitely to succeed in grasping it.
So remember the following words by heart.
____What seems improbable is possible.
Otherwise you’ll miss the golden chance of grasping it, and you may regret for many, many years.
When the purpose is finally met, the intensity of deja-vu is relative to your intensity of your past life memory.
I don’t know your purpose, but most came for specific love or hate.