Suicide is painless. It's life that hurts. I would know. Years of being constantly put down; beaten and abused. I had my innocence stolen away from me. The pain doesn't go away. It flares up constantly, reminding me of just how messed up I am. The idea of happiness scares me.
I look up into the pink and orange sky and hug my teddy bear close. Clouds drift by and trees sway in the gentle breeze. They don't have a right to be this beautiful when I'm hurting this much. It is nights like these I wish it was pouring, so I could scream and cry out all the pain.
When I was younger, I never thought I would ever hurt this much. People don't commit suicide because they want to die. They do it because it hurts too much to live. I've always wondered about death. Where was my mommy? Does she know that I miss her? Where do you go after? Was there truly a heaven and a hell? Or was it just like a deep, endless sleep? I guess anything would be better than this though. Eventually the thought of killing myself went from "how" to "when"? Pills? A rope? Blades? A gunshot? None of this matters. I'll finally say good-night.