So this is it. The stool beneath my feet and the rope around my neck, in my own dark, cold room. This is it. I won't have to hear my classmates' insults or my parents' disgust. I won't have to hear the constant shouts and screams. The overused words.
"You are a disgrace to this family! Why are you always so depressed? Just cheer the fuck up!"
It's not as easy as that. That's why I'm here, tears streaming down my face, about to take my own life.
"This is it," I whisper to myself. I can't take the pain of living anymore.
My legs shake. I take a deep, shaky breath.
The stool lands on its side.