They say cutting your wrist helps release all the pain and misery, but I think ‘they’ are just a bunch of fucking morons. I tried that once you know, and all it ever did was cause people to distance themselves. There is no secret guide to slicing your wrist. No one tells you how deep or how wide the cut should be. One morning I overdid it a little and showed up to school looking like a complete wreck. Most people who noticedjust looked away or scoffed, but my math teacher Ms. ham was the kind of teacher that enjoyed rubbing my problems in other peoples faces. As soon as my class with her started I knew things weren’t gonna go my way. Especially whenI saw that look on her face. Take a look of ridicule or pity, and cross it with a wicked smile. The bitch got off on other people’s suffering, but would act like the nicest person in the world when talking to my parents. Shetold me to stand in front of the class, and than grabbed my sleeveforcing me to showeveryone what I hatedso dearly aboutmyself. From there on my already terrible existence at school became that much more unbarable. All I could look forward to everyday was going home. At least there I could forget about everything by going to my happy place, my bed.
But life was never that symple, no, there was always something that life would throw at me in order to push me over the edge. Ms.Ham called my mom complaining about me skipping out on class, and mentioned that she was worried about my mental health. That bitch has a screw loose, so what would she know about bad mental health anyway? I spent a long time talkingabout what Ms. ham said with my mom, but she seemed to take Ms. hams words very seriously. Especially becuase she didnt believeme when i told her Ms. ham was only trying to make my life a living hell.Eventually she forced me to attend to a weekly round of therapy saying it would make me feel a lot better talking to someone about personal things. I say she’s full of shit. The therapist lady Looked like she hated her job, andacted like she needed a shrink more than I did. Her name was Ms. glosimar, and she had a weird tendency to jot down notesintentlywhile staring at my feet. I decided to call her out on that, and told her that therapy just wasn’t for me or her. She just revealed a sliver of a smilebefore telling me to leave. The very next day, my mom came to my room with prescribed medication from the therapist. Apparently it was because Ms. glosimar thought I had pent up stress and depression. Since when did I even have depression?
Eventually after a few weeks of takingdisgusting pills and suffering from their very bad effects, I started to really feel like I had been singled out. Everyday I would stare off into space and let my mind wander. Occasionally, if the room was quiet enough, the sound of my pulse could be Heard from a vain in my ear. I took confurt In the subtleyet constant beat thatnever ended.If onlyIcould havesuch a strong will to keep going...Of courseI chose tokeep the real gritty stuff about myself away frommy all time favorite shrink, and instead decided it was better just to agree with everything she told me.Howevera particularfeelingcontinued to scrape atthe inside of my head. It was like being enveloped in an aura of self doubt and pain that only made everything feel several times worse. Some days I would just stare at a wall seemingly deep in thought, but only thinking about that terrible feeling.After days of ignoring it, finally I gave into my imminent reality.I just wanted to end it all here, I just wanted to kill myself.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
The problem with killing yourself is that it is something you reallyhave tocommit to. I got so close to doing it a couple times, but was too chicken to pull it off on my own. I did think about assisted suicide, and whether or not I could get someone to do it for me, but decided it was to close to murder. I don’t want my blood on someone else’s hands just because I hate my existence. For weeks I went back and forth contemplating on how I was going to actually kill myself, and thought I would never come up with a method I was truly satisfied with. I finally just gave up on it, and thought it would happen eventually with how those pills are affecting my body.Life contunued like this until one day,while I was zoned out on the couch watching some shitty sitcom, an add came on about a gameing system called VR gear.
VR gear was a gaming device you put on your head that allowed you to play in a virtual reality world. Im not quiet sure when Virtual reality gaming became a thing, but i do know that it was increadibly popular with the majority of the kids at my school. I actually thought about buying one once, but with the way my reputation at school had ultimately diminished i decided not too out of fear of not having anyone to play with.
At first I dismissed it as the same old cutting edge technology bullshit, and was about to change the channel. But my ears perked up at the words ‘auto sleep stimulus.’ Apparently the devicecould put you to sleep automaticly in order to make your VR experiencethat much more carefree and optimal. But thats not what I had in mind for it, no, not in the least. As soon as the order for the device was complete, I made all the preparations neededfor leaving this world,including a suicide note that stated how meaningless everything in life was,especially my mom. Like I could give a damn what she thinks, she did nothing to help me when I was vulnerable, and threw me at some loon instead of trying to confurt me.
As soon as my order was shipped,I took the box upstairs to my room were I quickly unboxed the VR gear set. Moments afterI completlyassembled the device, I took it with me on a bus to the central city. I did a lot of research on the infrastructure of the buildings there, so I knew which ones had the fire escapes leading to the top ofeach building. Of course I picked the tallest one.Half way up I started to doubt myself, but smacked my cheeks very hard snapping my mind out of it. I wasn’t gonna give up on this after months of suffering, at the very least I could do with a little more confidents. I spent all yesterday hyping myself up for this, and giving up now would only lead to me livinga drawn out miserable life. Not gonna happen bitch, you are a coward, but a coward that can commit... hopefuly.
Standing on the waist high ledge of the building, I looked down and saw people the size of specks, and I was reminded of exactly why I wanted to kill myself. I am truly just a speck in the wind, so is everybody else. No one is truly special so why should I pretend to be? I should just end it all here. After placing the VR gear on my head and turning it on, I heard a loud beeping noisefallowed by a monotonous female voice.The voice asked if I wanted to trainsition into sleeper stimulus mode.I stopped to think about whatI was doing, but decided there was no point in further hesitation.After a short few seconds,Ifinally said yes. My perseption of timestarted to slow down, and theground tilted out of view,fallowed by the sound of wind pushing against my falling body. I thought to myself, this is the feeling of release, the absence of all that hurts. A feeling so profound it fills your entire existence with nothing but euphoria, this is death...
"Aaaagghhh!!"