This wasn't how I imagined my life - or my death for that matter.

And if I were to go back and ask my childhood self where I would be in 10 years, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have guessed here.

It's not like this was the plan. I was just... always so good at make believe. I studied the role and played my part to perfection.

Middle school was easy, children are overlooked all the time. "Hormones. Those are the real affliction of early adolescence." That's what they all said.

Then came high school. New mask, same old circus. I hid emotions that were too inconvenient for everyone and fabricated the ones I was expected to have. I was "that happy kid." Joyous even. No one even knew it was coming when I tried to kill myself senior year.

I remember thinking, "They'll be so surprised. How's that for happy." And when I failed, no one thought twice about my one-day absence from school. I wasn't even hospitalized. So this just became another secret, another lie, another layer. Not a soul on this earth knew about that failed attempt or how deeply it stung.

Too stupid to even get that right, eh, Ari? Too scared to try again, huh? You can't even commit to a proper death. You're so useless. It's truly an achievment. They should give you an award. Most useless person alive. Just end it already - for everyone's sake.

And I guess it's a little true. I was a little scared. Not really of dying. I was more afraid that I would mess it up again and they would all know. They would all see what I had spent years hiding. They would realize that it was all a facade.

But I'm so tired now.

I feel like everyone says that.

I'm just really, really exhausted. And sad. And angry. And so many other emotions all at once. I've always been what I needed to be - what people needed me to be. That's what I thought, at least. I always thought that I was "that" friend. The one that they could lean on and confide in. But the further along I got, the more I realized that I am replaceable.

I am the expendable crew member.

I'm the red shirt.

What do I bring to the table that another friend or a therapist can't do better? Nothing.

That's not the reason I'm doing this, though. Make no mistake, in the end it will be so much better when I'm gone. Trim the fat, cut off the dead weight. It'll all be better.

You'll all be better.

And I know that if you're reading this, then it means I really am gone and you might be really angry. Know that I made up my mind you weren't going to stop me - or save me.

I believe in you. You are destined for greatness.

All my love,

Ariana Vargas.