“I just don’t want to be alive.” I begged into the empty room. I didn’t want to go through the act of killing myself, but I also didn’t want to be alive — so I begged. I begged that something might take me.
Even today, I cannot explain why I felt this way. I don’t know why Homecoming night was the breaking point, and I don’t understand how things got so bad. I don’t have answers, but the questions posed to tell a story in themselves.
Suicidal Ideation
The whole world was twisting. My back arched into the air, and the cold, concrete floors were the only thing supporting me. I wanted to dissolve into them. I wanted the paint-marked floors to swallow me whole. I didn’t want to face my life. I writhed in mental agony as my limbs flailed about in the air.
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