“Am I better off dead? Am I better off a quitter? They say I’m better off now than I ever was..”
Dear Mom and Daddy,
You won’t ever read this because if I wanted you to then I would be writing this on paper and mailing to you to get a week from now. I’ve played over in my head a million times how to say all of this to you and I still don’t know how, but let me ask you something..
Did it ever occur to you that I’m not better!? That I’m not okay, in reality I’m worse than ever, and I’ve just gotten a lot better at hiding it? Did you ever think that I still hide the scars because they’re not just scars, they’re fresh cuts again. All those nights you could’ve walked into my room and realized that I was/am not okay. I hurt.. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I hurt, it’s a deep.. painful… dark.. hurt. It scares me. I scare me. There’s a quote, “If you could read my mind, you’d be in tears.”–that quote has been my life for over a year now. You thought sending me to the ER would fix everything. Send me to get professional attention, put me on medication, and send me to a shrink.. Everything was supposed to go back to normal, right?
Daddy… Stop pretending that I didn’t try to kill myself because I did. Stop trying to pretend  nothing ever happened. It did. You treat me like a prisoner, like you can’t trust me. I called you from the ER and instead of making sure I was okay and comforting me, all you could say was “Why would you do that?”. Did you really think that was what I wanted to hear? You just talked to me like this was a normal, everyday thing. Well, sorry to burst your bubble but it’s not. I tried to take my own life. ACCEPT IT. BELIEVE IT, BECAUSE IT HAPPENED AND IT’S TIME TO STOP PRETENDING IT DIDN’T.
Mom, if you knew how much I hate you at times… You make me feel so worthless sometimes. Like nothing I ever do is good enough. I try, and try, and try. It’s never enough. Nothing is good enough for you. It’s your way or the highway, and I honestly was just really tired of the way  “your way” made me feel. I’m not going to tell you I’m sorry.. I’m not sorry for trying to commit suicide, but what I am sorry for is that I didn’t succeed. Taking me out of your life would have made it so much simpler.
I could write and write for hours, day, weeks, about something you’ll never understand. In all reality, only someone as crazy as I am could understand the way I feel.