my choice

A Story by aya_lambert

My choice

Death is not a choice; it comes randomly to random people. But my death was a choice. I could have lived longer, but I choose not to. I hate life, I hate it! Death was my only hope. Everybody wants to live forever, but what is the point? Yes, you may say I’m crazy, stupid, too good for that and other things, but no one even tried to say hi or good morning, not that it was a hard task to do. Yes, I had no one to turn to, no remedy. Both my parents were alcoholics, and everybody thought I was too. They didn’t talk to me because they thought I was weird in the way I talk, and that I was not fun to be around. Some of the girls would start pushing me around, picking on me, and blaming me for stuff I have never done. I found death a pleasant way to get rid of all this forever. I wanted someone; I needed someone. I tried talking to a girl, to tell her everything, to tell her I wanted to die, but she just laughed and told everyone. Now people started to call me suicidal, insane, scary, emo, Goth and many other horrible things, so I started cutting. The first blade cut my hand slowly it was painful. I told myself” no more. This is the last time I do this!” but it felt good to forget about the things that hurt me mentally, and focus on the things that hurt me physically. I felt better cutting. A boy came and told me” I like you, and we should go out sometime!” of course I said yes! I was hopeless, so he asked me on a date, and I agreed. So the date was in a restaurant; I waited ten minutes and he finally came. I couldn’t believe it! But things have gone pretty out of hand. He threw food and water at me; he had his friends, and they started laughing at me and taking pictures and I said” I thought you liked me!” trying to hold back tears, and he said” now why would I like you? You are fat, ugly and weird!” they continued laughing; I was hurt so I ran to my house. I couldn’t take any more humiliation. I hated him and his friends. When I got home, I locked myself in my room and continued crying, as I calmed down, I started thinking about his words “fat, ugly, and weird” maybe that was the reason people hated me, at least that’s what I thought was true. I started skipping meals, making exercises, throwing up all my food. I lost weight, but it wasn’t enough. I was just skin and bones, and yes I became anorexic. I skipped a whole three months of school just to be skinnier. When I came back, everybody started staring and laughing. I didn’t know why? A girl came up to me and said” you know you are pathetic, oh and now it’s a good thing you lost weight, now hurting you will be much easier!” she started pushing me in circles with her friends and calling me psycho, and then they threw my books on the floor, her friend even said” why don’t you just kill yourself already?!”. The day after she said that I thought well about the consequences of dying and death itself; I searched for ways to commit suicide, and found the easiest and perfect way to do it. I cleaned my room, locked the door, removed my pills, burned my diary, and deleted everything that had to do with me. I put a note saying” I am sorry”. Then I opened the doors of my balcony; cold air rushed through my hair. I walked and stood on the edge, looked down and said to myself “pretty far distance huh?” I was scared, yet happy. Death was my only friend and I kept it waiting, so I breathed heavily took a step forward and jumped..