I can’t say I have the worst life out there but for me, in my mind, I’ve had enough.
From the beatings, I received at home and from school, all physical, emotional and then mentally I can now officially say I’ve given up on tomorrow.
Tomorrow doesn’t always come for some and I understand now why suicide rates are always continuing to climb the ladder.
My name is Mykelti Wolphe, I’m 17 and I’m going to take my own life. Why? Because I’m exhausted. I’m done.
Standing in the middle of the school’s rooftop with a blade and 3 bottles of prescribed medications taking in my last view of the city that has haunted me for the last time.
I uncapped the pills and swallow them with water and sit against the door before taking my blade and running them against my wrists for the last time.
Watching the blood run down my hands doesn’t scare me. It’s actually given me a sense of calm. I’m ready to die.
Everything starts to become hazy as my head starts spinning, I take one final look towards the city and smile.
It really was a beautiful day to die.
Blackness starts to cloud my vision as I become weaker and soon there’s nothing.
My name is Mykelti Wolphe, I’m 17 years old and I’m finally free.