i’m not sure why, but i have this weird feeling that i won’t grow to be old. i mean, i can’t imagine myself living until i’m, what, ninety?
People believe that im strong. even my boyfriend believes so. Why? why do they think that? Im not strong. I’ve tried so hard for so long and i’m tired of trying. I’m tired of fighting the waves of misery and sadness. I’m ready to let them pull me under and drown me in sorrow.
Family & Friends EffectsGeneralI Will SurvivePoetry & ArtRantsStories of HopeStories of LossSuicidal Survivors
When you have never met, or even spoken to a person…yet you feel like on some level you already know them.
It may be you feel that way because of things that someone tells you about them,
or it may be because in a way you know what they are going through.
You know them through someone else’s correspondence with them,
because you try to reassure the person that loves this stranger you feel you know.
You feel helpless…because you wish you could tell that person how much they are loved by someone, yet you can’t.
You feel useless because with all the reassurances and hours spent talking to this person that loves the stranger you think you know you can’t do anything to help their situation.
You are angry…
Because this stranger keeps hurting this person that loves them…
You know they don’t do it on purpose but that doesn’t matter.
You hate seeing their suffering…and yet nothing can be done that hasn’t already been done…no words can be said…that haven’t already been said…
This stranger, seems…so familiar…so…similar.
You know it is useless to wish you could help this stranger that you feel you may know…
Does this stranger have a name?
Does this stranger have a face?
What about a family?
Anyone besides this person you know that loves them so much that they couldn’t live without them?
Yes, there is one person…
One other person.
One snake in the shadows…
One plague in the night…
A whisper on the wind…
A voice hiding deep in the depths of the strangers heart…pushing, kicking, holding them down…
Blocking out the sun,
Blocking out the light.
There is no hope…
But maybe…if this stranger could see this other persons love, feel this other persons arms around them…
Just maybe they could be saved?
Don’t people say love conquers all?
Isn’t love supposed to defeat all evils?
But some evils are hidden…like a cancer as soon as you think they are one they return…
This evil makes this stranger you feel you may know think that they have nothing…nothing left to live for…
But this stranger is wrong…
This stranger has everything to live for,
If only they could hold on…
Hold on just a little longer…
Then this person you know,
This person that helped you know this stranger…they could save them…
Yes…hold on…for even when you can’t see it hope is there…even when you can’t feel it hope is there…especially when you feel like you have none…hope is there.
How can we know that we are loved? Kisses. I’ve never been kissed in my whole life. Yeah, I’m ashamedÂ becauseÂ of that. Come on, I’m a teenager and that means, to me, that I’ve never been loved, not even a child love. Well, when I was a seven or eight year old girl, a friend kissed me. Have you ever seen those kisses between children? Was something like that. He acted like a ************ with me the rest of my childhood, telling me that I was ugly and fat constantly. God, I hate the bastard. Anyway, that was my first kiss. I don’t know why that happened, we was watching a Disney film about ants and in some scene the guy kisses the princess of the anthill. So my friend say “do you want to try that?” and I said “yes”. He kissed my hand, then my lips. It’s a funny memory. My second kiss was when I was with some of my cousin friends and I kissed three of them. I didn’t even know how to kiss! That’s even funny. TheyÂ wereÂ really virgin so our lips just touched a little. My third kiss was the same thing, with a friend. Nothing of love or anything, and I’m still here without know how to kiss. My lips have touched penises, but haven’t touched love. It’s funny and sad. Just like in that DrewÂ Barrymore’s film.
Love is for pretty people, and I’m not. I don’t even have the personality that makes people fall in love. I have nothing more than a fish bowl.
Sorry for writing such a insignificant thing, but try to understand that I’m just 13 years old and that I see how all my friends seem to be in love all the time. It’s frustrating being here by myself. Â Pathetic, isn’t it?
The story of me. I wrote this after my first hospital visit, it was going to be my suicide note but a close friend of mine found me before I died. He has an uncanny ability to call me whenever I’m seriously debating suicide even though he’s moved all the way across the world from me.
Born to the urban monster,
Raised to be mindless,
Her curiosity brought pain,
Tears of blood shed in silence.
Ostracized by her peers,
In the shadows she played.
Her â€œfriendsâ€ cruel like the rest,
As she was bullied there came no aid.
Fragile, she often wept,
They laughed and pointed.
Ridiculed and mocked into failure,
Her parents only watched, disappointed.
Harder still she pushed through life,
Hoping to someday make everyone proud.
Never stopping, working â€˜til exhaustion,
Sheâ€™d reach perfection, she foolishly vowed.
The days passed and years went by,
Aged by pain far beyond her time,
Fun and games far from her mind,
Wasted away before her prime.
Her life ended before her death,
Robotically going through the motions.
Soon she could take it no more,
And let herself flow with her emotions.
The sharp knife stung her skin,
Crimson streams her sorrow released.
She cut and cut all the while feeling free,
She cut until all thoughts and feelings ceased.
Finally she had the peace she craved,
Her angry thoughts for the moment sated.
Until from her dreams she was awakened,
Finding that by sudden friends she was surrounded.
Fake smiles, sickly sweet voices,
Why had she done it?
Hadnâ€™t she thought of them?
Why would such a sin she commit?
All dreams taken away from her,
She felt her will weaken.
Broken beyond repair,
The hope in her completely beaten.
-Ren, The Riddle Queen