I've seen a bunch of This type of stories, and noticed how they're usually really short...but came up with new idea.

NOTE: I DO NOT ENCOURAGE SUICIDAL IDEAS,ACTIONS,ETC. IF YOU'RE OR HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT SUICIDE OR HAVING ANY KIND OF TROUBLE PLEASE TELL SOMEONE, ASK FOR MEDICAL HELP PLEASE DO NOT SUFFER IN SILENCE. YOU'RE HERE FOR A REASON.

Disclaimer. I do not own The Outsiders.

October 1st, 1967

Dear someone:

It's been two weeks since I last saw Johnny or Dally, and everyday it hurts more. The doctors told me I would feel better as the days pass, but I don't feel better at all. I feel worse.
It isn't fair, you know?
How they get to be wherever they are, when we stay here and miss them.
Sometimes I wonder if they're okay. I hope they're happy, they deserve to be happy.
Even Dally, there was still good in him. He deserved a second chance.

He stays in his room for the whole day, no matter how much Darry tells him to go to school he refuses and stays home. Darry tries to reason with him but his brother's attitude got to him. He got angry and yelled.

October 4th 1967

Dear someone:

I feel guilty sometimes. How I live while my friends are dead.
Two Bit was right, we can't get along without Johnny, he's supposed to be here with us. Not up in heaven.
Is he in heaven? Is there even a heaven?
I suppose there is, it must be nice.
I feel so down lately, I'm not even hungry most of the time, I can't even get up from bed.
Darry told me again how we don't stop living if someone dies, and I suppose he's right. We're alive and we must live, but what if we also die?

He refuses to eat dinner, claiming he feels sick and can't stop feeling tired.
Soda is concerned and worried. Darry is getting desperate from his brother's attitude.

-

October 10th 1966

I'll stop writing dear someone. Because no one will read this anyway.
I'm sick of everything, I'm tired of how everyone pretends that everything is okay. It isn't.
They tell me to move on, well, they aren't the ones supposed to be dead as well. I can't sleep from the nightmares I get.
I should've died in that fire, Johnny did! It was my fault we got inside, why couldn't I just die?

He tells Sodapop he can't sleep, Steve tells him to fuck off and get his ass to bed.
Sodapop gives him a pill that will make him sleep for atleast 8 hours straight, saying these even knock out Darry.
Ponyboy's eyes noticed where they keep them.

October 25th 1966

I'm sick of it.
I just ugh, I can't go on. I'm tired, I just want to sleep but I get disappointed when I wake up that I don't want to sleep anymore.
I love my brothers but it isnt the same, I don't feel the same so I can't be the same.
I'm tired, it hurts. It hurts so much.
I want someone to feel sorry for me, to tell me it's normal to feel this way, they tell me I'll get better, that they're suffering too.
I don't want to know they're suffering, I'm a bad person, I'm selfish.
Because I want them to feel sorry for me, to hurt as much as I do so I don't feel so lost.
I know I'm horrible, I should be dead.

He grabs a couple of pills and keeps them in the dresser, he takes one each night so he can sleep without dreaming, making him forget about things for a couple of hours.

Until a couple of hours is not enough.

One afternoon it all crashes down. Badly.
I couldn't stop crying, it was all too much, too much. I was told that whenever I felt sad that I should write it down and later show it to someone else so they knew how I feel. I've done that, but I couldn't anymore.

I'm horrible, how should I do it? What would Sodapop say when he sees what kind of person I am. What about Darry? I couldn't do it, not anymore.

So here I am, lying on the bathroom floor feeling like shit.

I'm starting to regret this. I'm afraid. I shouldn't have done that. Darry is right, I never think and I just do things before thinking of the outcome.

But I was so sad, and the pills almost looked delicious, happy, as in taunting me that they had the key to happiness, that I would find happinness if I gulped them down.

I was so sad, so alone. So stupid.

That I did it.

Twenty-two little white pills. Or were they more? Twenty-five? Thirty?

I can't even remember. I feel nauseous and my stomach hurts real bad, I feel sweat running down my neck.

I'm still crying, but not because I'm sad.

But because my stomach hurts so bad and I'm terrified. Am I dying? Am I dead? Do I want to die?

I feel so nauseous I can barely talk, everything is so bright and it makes my eyes heavy...

I don't want to die.

I try to walk towards the phone clutching my stomach. It hurts too much.
I dial the number but I can barely hear the voice the other side.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" says someone. I can't recognize who it is anymore. I can't even think, I want to throw up.

"Get home. I-I'm sorry." I try to say but my stomach just hurts and my head feels lighter. "I shouldn't have. I'm-I'm" I breathe "I'm sorry."

"Kid are you alright? Shit. What did you do?" says the voice. I know this voice, I've heard it before. Why can't I think of a name?

"Pills. Help. It hurts"

"What?" the voice says.

"They looked good. I don't feel good, I'm tired and it hurts so much. Everything is so slow"

I hear a snort "Are you high Pony?" I can't answer, I'm too tired. Too tired to open my mouth. Too tired for anything "Kid?" the voice asks again "Ponyboy?" he sounds worried. The something must click in his mind because seconds later he says "Holy Shit. Kid don't close your eyes okay? Holy fuck. Soda!" the voice screams "Soda call an ambulance, tell them to go to your place now. Holy shit."

My eyelids feel heavy. I almost give up when a voice talks again. "Pony? Pone what did you take?" says the voice of my brother, he's in hysterics.

I want to tell him about the pills. How many, what kind, how. Why.

But I can't, my mouth feels full of cotton and my tongue feels heavy. I can't speak, so before I can say a word my eyelids close and I fall to the ground.

It's all dark.

I'm sorry it's short!

-RC