I walked home and ran straight to my bedroom. Mom knocked on the door.
"Bloom? Are you okay?"
"I guess I'm just tired." I replied.
Tired of being bitched about behind my back.
Tired of being laughed at.
Tired of being made fun of.
Tired of feeling ugly.
Tired being ignored
Tired of feeling unloved
Tired of no one caring
Tired of pretending to be happy when all I want to do is cry.
Soon mom had left to the store. I remembered my father. It's been seven years since the separation of my parents. Even though dad only lives a few miles away from me, he refuses to see me. That upsets me a lot. Too many things have happened. Mom got sick, Daphne came home drunk and got taken away for detoxification. Not to mention my best friends all being in depression.
Depression...suicide...end it all?
I ran towards the kitchen and took a knife out of the knife drawer. I examined it. Sharp to the point. A tear fell down my right cheek. I pointed the knife towards my chest where the heart is located.
1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10
I stopped myself. Was this really the answer? No. It's not.
I looked at my reflection on the knife. I smiled. I'm worth living for.