DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, if I did this would have happen in the show.
FEEDBACK: Please, it's what I live for!
AN: I know a lot of people think of Lana as a strong individual but she has been through a lot and there is only so much one person can handle, especially a teenager. Please realize while you read this that it isn't an "I hate Lana" fic or depict Lana as weak this is meant to show the real pain that the character is feeling. Suicide is an inability to cope with something, it does not make a person weak or bad or perverse. This is a bit more dramatic than a real suicide note but I had to hold interest somehow.
P.S.: I wrote this in about five minutes so it's more of a test run than a finished product.
When I am gone they will stand at my funeral trying to describe the girl they once knew while tears for themselves fall from their eyes. Of course everyone will mutter about how it was "so unexpected" and "how well adjusted" I seemed. If I could be there in spirit as well as body I would cry, they don't know me at all.
They don't know the real me. The person who is filling this bathtub with water and glancing at this razor is a foreign entity. The girl weeping in the mirror is to much for them to handle and they wouldn't understand her.
So she's taking this razor and cutting me. She can't stay buried under false smiles and small talk anymore, she will flow from my wounds and greet the world with two smiles on my wrists.
I don't think I'm sorry it's ending like this and I'm not angry at anyone. She is just to much and I can't hold her inside. She wants to show you her pain and hurt and feelings. She doesn't want to hide anymore.
She. Wants. Out.
FEEDBACK: Please, it's what I live for!
AN: I know a lot of people think of Lana as a strong individual but she has been through a lot and there is only so much one person can handle, especially a teenager. Please realize while you read this that it isn't an "I hate Lana" fic or depict Lana as weak this is meant to show the real pain that the character is feeling. Suicide is an inability to cope with something, it does not make a person weak or bad or perverse. This is a bit more dramatic than a real suicide note but I had to hold interest somehow.
P.S.: I wrote this in about five minutes so it's more of a test run than a finished product.
When I am gone they will stand at my funeral trying to describe the girl they once knew while tears for themselves fall from their eyes. Of course everyone will mutter about how it was "so unexpected" and "how well adjusted" I seemed. If I could be there in spirit as well as body I would cry, they don't know me at all.
They don't know the real me. The person who is filling this bathtub with water and glancing at this razor is a foreign entity. The girl weeping in the mirror is to much for them to handle and they wouldn't understand her.
So she's taking this razor and cutting me. She can't stay buried under false smiles and small talk anymore, she will flow from my wounds and greet the world with two smiles on my wrists.
I don't think I'm sorry it's ending like this and I'm not angry at anyone. She is just to much and I can't hold her inside. She wants to show you her pain and hurt and feelings. She doesn't want to hide anymore.
She. Wants. Out.