Fade To Black

Life it seems, will fade away
Drifting further every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free

I sit on my bed, thinking of the past few days. All the pain I was forced through. The looks in my parents when I told them I am goth. When my sleeve was pulled back to reveal the lines of scars. Some new, red, and angry. Others white. Others that looked like bruises. They where the deep ones. All of them reminded me of how hopeless and broken I am. All of them reminded me of the pain when I forgot for only a second. All of them, my mother looked at in horror. She hadn't spoken to me since. I was counting the minuets until I would be shipped off to rehab. When the only times I would see my parents would be on weekends. Then they might talk to me. My mother might become 'perky' again. Trying to make things better. My father would look at me with those green eyes. They would be filled with pain and disappointment. I wondered what he would think if I was dead. But I knew what he would think.

"The girl in the casket? That's not my little girl. My little girl died when she started cutting herself."

I had herd him say something similar to my mother.

Life had lost meaning. I had nothing left to give. I had given it all trying to impress my mom. Trying to keep my friends from going through what I am now. And with each thing I attempted, I failed. I had given it all for nothing. My friends still cut. And with each mark, I went through more pain. But I couldn't tell them that. I couldn't let them know how I felt. Ever.

I can't live like this. I need it to end!

Things not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost, this Can t be real
Cannot stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now he 's gone

I remember before all this depression sunk in. The good years. When we where laughing, the three….no four of us all running around the playground. Chasing each other and the guys. Getting trucks to honk at us. Yelling at the drives when they didn't. Sixth Grade. Where everything was okay. The good years. When I trusted easily. When I trusted her.

Then there was the fight. Between two of my best friends or…one best friend and one who I thought was a best friend. It went deep. It got bad. Really, I think that started it all. It just didn't stink in until the next year.

But the good years. I miss them. Every part of them. Even the obsession we shared over those books. I miss our innocents. When we thought cussing was the worst to come in our lives. When we thought problems couldn't get to bad and pain was temporary. When emo was an unknown word. Like rape. Like abuse. Like cutting. When I could tell one day from the next. Instead, now, they all merge together in agony.

Never ending agony.

I'd do anything to give take this feeling away.

No one but me can save myself, but it's too late
Now, I can't think, think why I should even try
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death Greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye

I look down at my arm. I picked up my knife and brought it to my wrist. Why even bother trying?I think There's no reason to. With a shaking hand I sliced down the length of the blue vein pulsing in my arm.

Your not emo enough.

Oh well this is a disappointment.

You should go to rehab.

She's emo.

UGLY!

Go kill yourself, Bitch.

Waste!

Thoughts of past words ran through my head. Pain had hit like a wall but it wasn't enough to stop the agony.

I tried to get help. I gave them all the signs. But they didn't care. Now its too late.

Looking down at my now bloody shaking hand I saw the hunk of metal I had stolen out of my fathers closet earlier. His handgun. Then I looked over at the desk I had written at for so many years. The poems and stories that where screams for help that no one listened to. The desk I had spilled black nail polish on. The desk my dad had painted for me. On top of it lay my suicide note I had written just the night before. Before I knew I would really go through with it. It was going to be just to get emotions out. Now it was so much more.

Before going through with it I dipped my finger in the blood that was pouring from me and drew a heart around the note before singing my real name below my fake name. I had worked so hard on that note. Trying to make sure who ever-if anyone-read it would know it was not their fault. Would maybe smile or laugh at some of our memories. But would know that I couldn't take it anymore. Would know not to cry over my death. But to accept it. For in heaven or hell, I was in a better place.

Without anymore thoughts I lifted the gun to my head. My finger shook on the trigger. One word came to mind before I squeezed-squeezed, not pulled-the trigger. I whispered it aloud.

"Goodbye."

The shot was fired.

I found myself in blackness for only a few seconds. But it felt like years. The pitch black numbness. Nothingness. I guess this is it. No heaven. No hell. No Grim Reaper-otherwise known as Death. I had thought only a second too soon. For then a tall black hooded creature came out from the shadows. One hand stretched out towards me while the other held a weapon. Fearing nothing anymore, I took his hand. I felt like a young kid. As I walked away I whispered something.

"Finally. It's finally over."

A/N: This song fict was kind of hard to write. But I wanted to. So here ya go. Let me know what you think, k? Thanks.

The song was Fade to Black by Metallica (Youtube.com/watch?v=WEQnzs8wl6E)

An amazing song. I love it. =)

Oh and although this story dose contain some of my memories, it was fiction. I will not commit suicide. Ever. AND YOU SHOULDN'T EITHER!

So….Let me know what you though and let me know how your life is. Thanks. Peace people!