I don't own the poem "To Die For Love". I got it off fire hot quotes.com (to get there, just take out the spaces.)

~*~*~*~*~ To Die Or Not To Die ~*~*~*~*~

I stood in the middle of kitchen, staring at the shiny object I held in my hand. It was sharp, and pointy. Perfect for me. I could almost imagine seeing it covered with blood. My blood.

A tear slid down my cheek, but I refused to wipe it away. I was so confused, and hurt.

I began to question myself. Did I want this? Did I want to die? Did I want my life to end?

The answer came to me instantly. It was so clear to me.

Yes.

I wanted this. I needed this. I wanted to die. I wanted my life to end.

I've been hurt one too many times.

I was hurt by my so-called "friends" back in God knows where. I've lived almost everywhere in the whole world -- I think. All thanks to dear, old Daddy. Stupid ass is in the air force. Stupid ass gets transferred and doesn't care about what his daughter thinks.

When we -- as in Daddy and I -- moved here, I thought my life would be different. It was different. Much different.

I made new friends here. Friends that backed me up whenever I needed their support. I even snagged myself a boyfriend, and we became closer each day.

I thought he was amazing. He was funny, honest, and smart and -- when he needed to be -- serious. He was also quite a cutie. Tall with silky, blonde hair, and such beautiful eyes. His eyes reminded me of the sky. They were the same colour as the sky. I could lose myself in them.

He played guitar and on our six month anniversary, he sang me a beautiful song. I believe it was called, "How Do I Live?" by Leanne Rhymes. When he finished singing, he told me that he meant every word he sang. That song was my song. Our song.

A month ago, we broke up. I saw him and another girl kissing.


I was crushed. My heart was in two pieces. To top it off, I ran away. He had tried to explain to me what happened, but I refused to let him explain anything. I ran home, crying.

When I stopped crying, I had to choose between life and death.

If I chose life, it meant I would have to live my life every day, depressed. Sure, I could get help. But I already tried that and it didn't work.

If I chose death, it meant I would make myself, him and all my friends happy.

Friends.

Who needs them?

Not me.

They all drifted away from me, and ignored me. They were all busy with social activities and their own lives. They don't care about me. I'm betting they all wish I was dead.

Well, if that's their wish, why not grant it? What's the harm in granting a fellow human's wish?

I held the knife in front of my face. I could see my reflection in the blade. My shoulder-length brown hair was resting on my shoulders. My blue-green eyes, which usually sparkled with life, were empty and puffy from crying.

As I held the knife in my hand, I began to speak a poem, I had written a year ago when I went through depression for the first time. I had called it, "Die for Love."

"I sit in the park, where I dwell,

For this boy I love so well.

He took my heart away from me,

And now he wants to set me free.

I see a girl on his lap,

He says things to her he never said to me,

I ran home to cry on my bed,

Not a word to Mother was said.

Father came home late that night,

He looked at me from left to right.

He saw me hanging from a rope,

He took his knife to cut me down,

And on my dress a note was found:

Dig my grave,

Dig it deep,

Dig my grave from head to feet.

And on the top,

Place a dove,

And remember this,

I died for love. . . ."



I raised the knife and held it over my wrist. I began to recite the rest of the poem.


"Happily ever after,

That's how they think you to think it will be,

But it's not,

Not at all in reality.

The deaths, the tears, the fears, the falls,

Through it all we still go on,

The broken hearts,

The cheating friends,

So much pain that never ends.

The fake smiles that seem to make everything ok,

But not for you,

Because you know the pain won't go away.

Bright and cheery, but oh so weary,

Because inside, your heart is breaking in two."



I looked over at the suicide notes I've left to my father and friends. I knew the words by heart.

'I know this is the right thing to do. I just know it.'


"I'm giving up on loving you,

I can't take the pain you've put me through.

Deep down I know the feelings are always there,

Maybe someday you will care.

At least for now I can hide my pain,

I know if I don't, I'll go insane.

Our time apart has made me realize,

There is no second chance when it comes to guys,

I almost had you back one time,

But of course, you changed your mind.

The many excuses that you have told,

Are getting lame and really old.

We never talk anymore,

It's like a room to your life,

And you've slammed the door,

It hurts to know you've shut me out,

Now I know what love is all about.

You're happy, then you cry and cry,

Where there was truth, becomes all lies,

All in all, it never ends for good,

But then again, who thought it would?"



There was a loud banging on the door. It startled me so badly, I almost dropped the knife. At first, I thought it was only thunder. But then, it happened again. Someone yelled and screamed my name over and over. I had to concentrate. I had to make this decision before someone could stop me.

I slid the blade over the skin of my arm. Bright red blood oozed out of the cut, and I smiled. It felt good.


"Why do I always end up thinking of you?

Your voice, your smile, everything you do.

At first, I thought this would never work out,

I thought we would never last without a doubt.

But I think I'm starting to see what no one else could, that it seemed,

No one else would, we are perfect for each other,

Without a doubt, and this time it really will work out."



'Work out?! My relationship with him?' I nicked my arm.


'He hurt me!' I nicked my arm again.


'He betrayed me!' I nicked my arm for a third time, this time deeper.


The door burst open, and in ran my ex-boyfriend's best friend, with his little sister. His brown hair was perfect (as always) but his brown eyes shone in anger when he saw the blood oozing from my arm. His sister stared at the blood to and gasped.

He walked towards me, and began to speak. I couldn't comprehend his words. I couldn't understand what he was saying.

I began to feel light-headed. I dropped the knife, which was covered in blood. It clattered against the kitchen floor, and I began to sway. Then, darkness overtook me.

~*~*~*~*~ To Be Continued ~*~*~*~*~

Well, how'd you like? Crappy? Not crappy? Please review and tell me your honest-to-God thoughts about this. I know it's kind of dark, and gloomy. But I wanted to try out this idea.

Anyway, I'm betting you all know who she was talking about. It was pretty easy, and if you don't know who that person was, you'll find out next chapter.

Oh and by the way, if the characters seem a little OOC, they aren't and you'll find out exactly why they acted like they did next chapter.

Please R&R!