Chapter 1
Getting out of bed in the morning is hard. I feel comfortable under the covers, and the idea of forcing myself up for another pointless, stress-filled day makes me feel sick. Still, I clamber out of bed. I usually don't get much sleep at night; I can't get to sleep until around midnight. Then I regret it in the morning by sleeping in and rushing to get ready for school. No matter how many times this happens, I never learn.
School is hell. The classes are boring, and I wish I could stop trying to care about them. Things are different from when I was little. In primary school, you could go through the work without caring all that much. All we had to do was follow the rules. Now it's different. I'm at the age where nobody's going to hold my hand and do things for me. I have to manage life myself now, but I don't feel motivated to do so. I've got people I talk to every day, but I don't think I can confide in them. Maybe I'm just too proud to admit I've got problems, but I always end up in the same cycle of hating myself and feeling slightly better afterwards. No matter how many times this cycle repeats, I never change. I never learn.
Then I go home, where I feel even more lonely. At least at school, I had something to distract me. Something to numb the pain. At home I have nothing. I sit around on my computer all day, hardly making conversation with my parents. Life is just so boring, that I don't know what to say to them. As for my extended family, forget it. I hardly see them, and looking at them is like looking through a lens. I see them as just strangers who I see occasionally. Maybe if I tried to make conversation, pretend to be interested in my own life, things would be different. But of course, I never learn.
I feel trapped in this world. Sometimes I feel like I have breathing room, but by the end of the day all the pain is back. I wish it would choke the life out of me so that I don't have to keep going anymore. I know that if I put the effort in, maybe I can get through this, but I don't have the energy. No matter how bad things get, I never learn.
But finally, I've done it! I never thought I was capable of it, but I know I'm not dream as I lie on my side, my body curled around the knife lodged in my belly. Blood, dark and red and warm, spreads around me. I suddenly think of everyone who's had to deal with me, and wonder how they'll react. Will they feel sad for me, or will they not care at all? Either way, they'll get over me and go on with their lives free of pain and sorrow.
I suddenly begin to cry. I don't want to die like this, alone and bleeding, but it's too late. What's done is done.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to everyone, as if they can hear me. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough."
I've got the note tucked away in my pocket. Hopefully someone will find. They'll search my body, right? Once I'm found? I hope so. I put a lot of effort into that letter.
I suddenly wish I could take it back. Wish I'd never picked up that knife. Wish I could have just one day to come clean and tell the truth. Maybe I'd feel less alone. I make a vain attempt to reach for the door, to drag myself outside where someone can see me. But it's too late. I let out one last sob, angry at myself for regretting my last decision. I'm pathetic. I should be proud of myself. I've done the only thing I can do to stop hurting people, but I'm so selfish that I now regret it.
As I feel the life literally draining out of me, I have one final thought; I'll never learn.
