I’m sorry that you won’t see me graduate. I’m sorry that you won’t meet my husband, or watch me raise my kids. I’m sorry that I’m cheating you out of all the things a mother should experience. I can’t stay any longer, the pain is too much. I love you. I love Billy too, and Dad. I hope you all know if I was stronger I would have stayed. Sadly, I just can’t do it anymore.
The water flows effortlessly down my body, blood mixing in. Cut after cut I remain still, numb to the pain. They say one in twelve teens hurt themselves, so what makes me so significant? Nothing, I am a wallflower completely unnoticed and unimportant. As I make the final cut, straight up my right forearm I see my brother walk in… shaking in awe.
“WHY? WHY WOULD YOU STOP ME?” I rattled with anger and fear. No one was there, so I’m not sure who I was trying to yell at, but just letting it out made me calm down. The hospital room smelt sterile and like bleach. I was still shaking when a doctor walked in with my big brother and parents. Immediately I shut my eyes, I wasn’t ready to face them.
‘Sarah was lucky you were there Will, She wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t caught her when you did. Suicide is the third leading cause of death in girls 15-24; roughly ten percent of all teenagers commit suicide. Your parents should be thankful you stopped your sister from becoming another statistic. She deserves to amount to more than that.’ I flinched, shocked by hearing that. “She deserves to amount to more than that.” Who was he to decide what I deserve? He didn’t know me; he probably said that to everyone. Without realizing it, tears slid down my cheek like raindrops on a window. I couldn’t stop, my mother rushed to my side wiping them away but no matter how much I tried I couldn’t stop myself from crying into my mother’s arms.
“We love you Sarah, we always will. Just please I need to know why you would do this.” My mother’s voice; filled with sadness echoed through the small hospital room.
“You won’t understand mom, I know you won’t. Sometimes, when the emotional pain is too much for me, focusing on physical pain just seems to feel easier to bare. You can fix a cut with stitches, but how do you fix a mentally exhausted mind? How do I stop the negative thoughts from filling my head?” At this, my mother was utterly speechless. “Exactly mom, you can’t just stop thoughts like that. The best you can do is focusing your pain on something else.” The words flew out of my mouth faster than I had anticipated, I hadn’t realized until now how long I’d been waiting to let that out.
“Did you really want to die…” my mother whispers to me.
“No one who commits suicide really wants to die.”
“Then why do it?”
“I want the pain to end.” Hearing this I could tell was her braking point, without a word my mother got up and ran from the room, sobbing. Finally alone the doctor must have taken this has his queue to come talk to me.
“Sarah, I know the past few days of recovery have been hard but I want you to know you’re making great progress. Each year we have 400,000 people being treated for self-harm related injuries. You’re not alone, and if you’re interested there is a number of support groups you can get involved with that may help you deal with the bad thoughts you’ve had.” Once again it’s brought to my attention that I’m nothing special, I’m just like the thousands of others. Is this guy serious, does he really think saying this will help me? What a dumbass.
“Get out.” The words slip out before I even notice what I’m saying. “Get out. You don’t know what I’m going through. Get the hell out.” After years of built up sadness and anger I’m taking it out on everyone trying to help, and I don’t know how to stop myself. Silently the doctor leaves the room, obviously smart enough to realize I’m in no mood to hear his standard speech.
As badly as I wanted to be alone, I know the thoughts are going to eat me alive. Everything from my past is coming right back to taught me and hurt me. As the sun goes down outside fewer and fewer people come to check on me, I guess I’m allowed to be alone for the night. That’s when the thoughts and memories really start to get bad. ‘ You aren’t thin enough. Don’t you dare think you’re ever going to be good enough. You won’t. I can guarantee it. Do you see yourself? That fat is just disgusting, no wonder no one stays for long.’ Frantically I begin searching for something, anything sharp. I can’t deal with this; I NEED something to distract me. Why the hell is there nothing in here to use? That’s when I remember why I’m here. I let the thoughts almost kill me, and I can’t do that to myself again. With as much self- control as I can muster up I push the large red button attached to my bed. They know why I’m here; they’ll understand why I need them. Within minutes I have anesthetic shot threw my veins, and my eyelids begin to weigh down. For the first night in years, I fall asleep without letting the cruel thoughts win.
Every year, 864,950 people attempt suicide, which means one person attempts suicide every 38 seconds. 34,598 people die from suicide each year. I will not let my past turn me into a statistic. I am stronger than that, and it’s time I realize it.
the okay gatsby
the mediocre gatsby
the you could have done better gatsby
the terrible gatsby
The -you did great but not oscar award winning great- gatsby
“With this hand,
I will lift your sorrows.
Your cup will never empty,
For I will be your wine.
With this candle,
I will light your way in darkness.
With this ring,
I ask you to be mine.”
HELL. FREAKING. YES.
Inspired by : ” its scary for a self harmer, depressed or suicidal person to get feelings for someone because we get so attached so quickly and they become our safety net from the world and our everything but as soon as we find out they don’t feel the same way we get crushed and everything gets horrible again, like all the happiness, comfort and safety we felt is ripped away from us and its the worst thing ever. “
oh my, this describes it so perfectly. wow.