unable to commit suicide

She wanted to scream, so loud and long. She couldn’t though; her blurry eyes looked to her right, her sister sleeping silently. The last thing she needed was to wake her. She wished she could scream, so loud and long that her lungs would cave in but she couldn’t. She never would be allowed. She was calmer now. Her back was leaning against the faded purple walls of the dark room. The only light came from the stairs, which would guide them down stairs if they needed to, other then that the room was almost pitch-black. Occasionally a car would come down the mostly quiet dead end street and shin right into the bedroom windows.

 

She didn’t care. Her eyes were stuck on the opposite wall. She couldn’t make anything out, from the darkness and her tear-filled eyes. Still it was her room. She knew exactly what she was looking at, shelves of glass dolls and her sister’s dresses.

 

What did it matter? Her anger and frustration making her want to throw something but she kept herself in that one place. She had been crying so heavy earlier, the only way to stop her cries from waking up the house of five, including herself; was to bury her head into her feather-filled pillow, using her hands and knees to block as much of the force as she rocked back and forth.

 

She hated herself but no one else knew it. What was the point of anyone else knowing… everyone had tried to help her? They can’t. It was obvious that she was a lost cause. Yet they keep coming, one after another, falling for her as if she was an angel and innocent. It’s not true. She was no one, why would they want to help no one? She tried to warn all of them but no matter what they stay. Why do they have to help the down, and the incapable? Why must they fall for the saddened face from a girl who had spent most of her days feeling like she was in hell.

 

Then once she opened her blurry eyes and noticed she was in heaven, she still cried. After all, if she was in heaven all this time. Then it makes her selfish, selfish because she was in a place people dreamed of. Wasn’t she? She had a home, a good family, a decent life. Yet here she is crying… making everyone around her feel that they need to help her. It is their right to help her.

 

She never asked for the help, she never wanted the help. In fact, she never wanted anything at all. She knew what she deserved. So now, she sits there, literally crying for nothing, because she didn’t deserve anything.

 

Why didn’t she deserve anything? That was something only she knew. She never asked for the help, or the love, she never wanted the affection and the compassion, did she want to be alone… no.

 

Even so, she learned. Certain people try to help but after so long, they give up. They get mean, they start telling her what she wants to hear and they leave, forever. Usually just leaving her with the words, she had been calling herself repeatedly in her head - the b***h, the w***e, the s**t, and the scum of the earth, the most, ugly, stupid and most of all foolish.

 

She had no reason to be sitting here staring at a wall, god knows so many have wanted to hold her, rock her in their arms and tell her everything was all right but no. She didn’t want to hear it. Nothing would be all right. She couldn’t even end her miserable life.

 

The only people who didn’t know, the only people who never even seemed to care, where those in which she needed. Her parents would never know. After all, she only cried at night, when she was alone, why else would someone stay up so late. There was only one other reason why anyone would want to be alone for a few hours, she used to do that too… Still what was the point? She was the w***e after all; she could do what she wanted.

 

She regrets everything in the end anyway. She sits on her bed now, her eyes trying not to blink so the hot salty tears wouldn’t come down her face, yet they were so strong they flowed down anyway. Then she have to blink and like a river with newly fell rain, they would flow, down her cheeks to her chin, some would drip from her chin to her stomach, or her lap. Others would make their way down her chin and under her shirt; usually her bra would soak them up, though that didn’t matter to her.

 

She sat there with her face sticky her eyes still stuck to that wall. Her mind regretting everything she done, everything she should have done. Was she stupid? She knew she was. Who cries about the past? How many girls would love to have guys wanting to hold them, love them. She never understood; even now, as she cries she wanders. “Why do they like me? Why waste their lives trying to help me. I’m a screw up, a mess, a good for nothing, a wreck.”

 

Even now, after everything, she can’t do what she wishes to do. She hated all the emos at school, walking around with their cuts of hearts and little notes, like tattoos, just to stain the skin. She hated it. She took a needle to her skin, only one, and she never will again. What was it good for, as if she needed more pain? Why hold that symbol of scars showing your insane or indifferent. She didn’t want them to know, what good was it doing?

 

She didn’t need more pity she hated it. She rather they treat her she knew she should have been all her life. That wouldn’t do it. Her breaths now short and quick, another panic attack. Even as she curled on her bed, her knees to her hurting stomach her hands pulling at her hair and rubbing her eyes. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill herself… She has thought of it so many times but it didn’t matter.

 

Like every other night, she laid there rocking until she fell asleep just dreaming. This was just another night, from another day of pretending everything was all right. No matter how much she cries, no mater how much she it told… life will never be all right. That is why no one needs to know, about how she feels at any given time.

Author's Note

I write like
Chuck Palahniuk

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

Reviews

[Liza]

so much turmoil in this character that appears to be silent but has so much emotion that needs to be released...

[Coyote Poetry]

Wow. You create a powerful story. The story seem to come to life with the powerful lines and strong story. Young girl lost in her own pain seeking nothing make it very hard to recognize. This is a outstanding short story. You create a character and told of great pain. A excellent story. Thank you.
Coyote

[HorrorMaster]

good story

[LOUDENCLEAR]

I appreciate the honesty of your writing. Strange, but I am going through almost exactly what your main character is going through. ..."life will never be alright. That is why no one needs to know about how she feels at any given time." How I feel the same way. It is a pleasure to know more people are also writing prose. Keep at it and you will find things out about your writing ability you never thought possible. Sad story, but, then again, I have to say on my behalf, life is mostly filled with sadness. xo-Eris

[ashley]

Okay, I'll help you out. In your defense, the errors aren't misspelled words, they're just missused words. Words that a spell-check wouldn't find. Here we go:
First paragraph, last sentence:
"Occasionally a car would come down the mostly quiet dead end street and shin* right into the bedroom windows."
***should be shine***
Second paragraph:
"She couldn’t make anything out, from the darkness and her tear filled eyed*."
***should be eyes***
"Shelves of glass dolls, and her sisters* dresses."
***should be sister's or sisters'... depending on if there's more than one sister***
Third papragraph:
"Her anger and frustration making her want to through* something but she kept herself in that one place."
***should be throw***
"...the only way to stop her cries from waking up the house of five, including herself; was the* burry* her head into her feather filled pillow."
***should be to***
***should be bury***

For the sake of time, I won't go through the rest, but if you want, please message me and I'll go through it. It's sometimes hard to catch these things yourself and a second pair of eyes really helps. Another problem I noticed was that you switch tenses constantly through the narrative. You'll go from past to present back to past again all in the same paragraph. It disturbs the flow when the writer doesn't settle on one or the other. Again, for the sake of time, I won't point out where you switch, but if you have a question, please feel free to message me. I'd be glad to help.

The story, to me, was difficult to read through because of the errors I mentioned, but what I read had potential. If you can fix the errors, I think it will be much stronger. It's a good start. Keep writing. :D

[Cheryl J. Turner]

I don't know of this is a personal piece or pure fiction but it was definately an interesting read. I did not find the description true to my experiences of the dark era but we all are different. Well written and shows clearly a different mind set. I hope that, if this is your personal account, you will find your way through soon.

[RDOriginal]

This story sheds a lot of light on a subject that seems to hold such thrall for many teenagers. The image of emo kids and self-mutilation is almost becoming a cliche but you expose the pressures very clearly. You do so without telling us what to think and that is a very important technique when writing a piece that is designed to enlighten or persuade the reader.

[Legion]

Lots of pain in this. Lots of typos as well. I can feel the story, but you need to do some serious editing with this one.

[Awdures]

This is really intelligent short. Yes, there are a few mistakes, but these are easily resolved with proofing. If you want me to proof for you then I'll gladly do in pm, here I want to leave a comment.

My comment is, this was really dark and full to the brim of emotion. Any person with half a brain could see what an extraordinary talent you have. The typos don't distract from your message here. It's short, and potent. The message is she couldn't do it. So she'll continue trying...isn't that what we all try to do?

Excellent and really enjoyable Ashley

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Very poignant and powerful... I think a persons will is usually stronger then they realize and that prevents such actions... otherwise the suicide rate would be higher... you really took us into the mind of this individual with your detailed words.