It was one of those tough days at school again. Recieving a D- on a paper I worked extra hard on was not the mark I was hoping for. Being sprayed by the muddy rain coming from a speeding car on the side of the road wasn't the cherry on top either.
It seems as though every day is like this. Yesterday, I was called fat to my face by Jessica. I haven't eaten a crumb since.
I finally get home, walk upstairs to my bedroom and shut my door. And so it is my enemy that stands before me.
I looked at the reflection in the mirror. The words that popped into my head were [[FAT]], [[STUPID]], and [[UGLY]].
I start poking my belly fat, as a tear drops from my cheek. I think to myself, I really need to continue on [[not]] eating the meals Mom makes me in order to [[do something]] for myself.
I think about what was due in my Economics class lastnight, and how I still haven't completed it. I'll just [[forget]] it and accept the late marks. I'm sure the mark I'll recieve won't be any better than a D- anyway.
I want to rip my greasy hair out and just lay on the floor to [[forget]] everything. Everything hurts. I'm tired of it all. Nothing makes me happy anymore, no matter how much I [[try]].
I walk into my bathroom and open up my cabinet. I find a [[razor]] and my prescribed anxiety and depressions [[pills]].
I look deeply into my reflection. Closely into my dark, tired eyes and ask myself... Is there a way out? Of this never ending sadness?
I stare into the reflection of my eyes for a minute and step away from the mirror. Maybe the hundredth try will work, I think to myself.
I wipe my tears and walk downstairs to the basement where my father keeps his [[tools]] and [[elliptical machine]].
I step away from the mirror and make my way downstairs to the kitchen for an after school snack.
Opening the pantry, I see a full bag of [[potato chips]], a [[chocolate chip granola bar]] and some [[saltine crackers]].
There's a tiny voice in the back of my head telling me to try.
What it doesn't understand is that I've tried one hundred and one times.
These thoughts consume my mind. Bad thoughts.
How can I [[escape]] this mind?
In the tool box, I could only find one [[hammer]], a [[pair of scissors]], and some [[rope]].
I climb onto the elliptical for the first time in what feels like ages.
I start at a lower pace, and gradually increase speed.
I feel my [[heart]] racing in pain. I get scared and come to an instant [[stop]].
I take the bag of chips and reach into the bag to grab a hand full. As I begin to devour the bag of chips, I can only think about how pathetic I am. My eating habits will never come to an end.
As I'm eating, I notice the basement door is slightly open. No one is home besides me and it is always closed. Weird. I make my way down to the basement only to find the light bulbs don't work down here.
I sit in the middle of the floor in complete darkness. I feel safe in the dark. Or do I?
I begin to [[cry]] again.
I take the granola bar and begin taking a bite. As I start chewing, I think to myself. This isn't too bad if I just eat one of these a day.
As I'm eating, I notice the basement door is slightly open. No one is home besides me and it is always closed. Weird. I make my way down to the basement only to find the light bulbs don't work down here.
I sit in the middle of the floor in complete darkness. I feel safe in the dark. Or do I?
I begin to [[cry]] again.
I take the bag of saltine crackers and only take one cracker out the bag before placing the bag back into the pantry. One cracker a day shouldn't put on too many pounds, right?
As I'm eating, I notice the basement door is slightly open. No one is home besides me and it is always closed. Weird. I make my way down to the basement only to find the light bulbs don't work down here.
I sit in the middle of the floor in complete darkness. I feel safe in the dark. Or do I?
I begin to [[cry]] again.
I deserve to just sit here and
[[die]]
[[die]]
[[die]]
<b>[[die]].</b>
You could not [[ESCAPE THE MIND]]. Please try again.
I pick up the hammer and suddenly the arm falls off. These tools most likely haven't been touched in ages since my father's passing.
I look back into the tool box and pick up the [[rope]] as I wonder how sturdy it will be.
I pick up the pair of scissors and run my finger along the sharp blade. I'm surprised how sharp it is. I swallow deeply as I know that what I'm about to do will hurt me. But it's an addiction. I love to hurt. I don't know what else there is.
I slowly slide the blade across my wrist, only to find out the blade isn't as sharped as I hoped it would be. Only an indent from the pressure is left in my skin.
I look back into the toolbox to find the [[rope]].
[[I puck up the long thick rope. ]]
I lay it on the cold cemented floor in the shape of a letter C and start looping the rope and forming it into knots.
I look up to find the perfect place for me to [[hang in peace]].
I can no longer save me. This mind cannot be escaped. You could not [[ESCAPE THE MIND]]. Please try again.
My heart feels ice cold. Pulsing out of my chest. I don't know what's happening.
As my surroundings start to turn black, I think back to the pills I took too many of yesterday.
[[I fall to the ground. ]]
I step off of the elliptical to calm myself down.
I look over at the box of [[tools]] and wonder what's all inside.
[[So much for the hundreth try.]]
I feel myself fall to the ground and my lifeless eyes roll back into my head.
You could not [[ESCAPE THE MIND]]. Please try again.
I pick up the razor and shut the cabinet. I walk towards the bathtub and start running hot water.
As I wait for the bath tub to fill up, I stare down at the razor in my hands.
Tonight could be the night I [[end]] it all. Or tonight could be another night where I just [[suffer]] through the pain.
I grab the prescription bottle and look at the label.
"Take one appropriately per day".
I take the cap off and look inside to see how many are left.
[[one]].
[[two]].
[[three]].
[[four]].
[[five]].
Five pills left.
I've done enough suffering in my seventeen years. I'm tired. I'm weak. I'm ugly. I'm stupid. This life is not meant for me.
I begin to deeply [[slice]] into my wrist, making sure the vein comes in contact.
I place the razor down beside the sink. I look at myself in the mirror, tracing every scar down my arm. I reminisce on the pain they gave me. They made me feel something, they made me feel alive.
I look back down at the razor in front of me. Just once more to heal me over and make me numb. I suffer through the pain, I always do. What's one more scar anyway?
I pick up the razor and begin to slowly [[slice]] my skin open on my right wrist.
Slice.
Blood.
Pain.
No.
More.
Suffering.
Slice.
Blood.
Pain.
[[Death]].
I feel myself weaken and fall to the ground. My lifeless eyes roll back into my head.
You could not [[ESCAPE THE MIND]]. Please try again.
I take two out and pop them into my mouth, followed by a glass of water. Two will hopefully cure the pain.
As time passes, the feeling stays the same.
I look back down into the bottle.
This doesn't seem enough for the pain today.
So I take [[three]] more.
I take one out and pop it into my mouth, followed by a glass of water.
I look back down into the bottle.
One doesn't seem enough for the pain today.
So I take [[two]] more.
I take three out and pop them into my mouth, followed by a glass of water. Three will hopefully cure the pain.
As time passes, the feeling stays the same.
I look back down into the bottle.
This doesn't seem enough for the pain today.
So I take [[four]] more.
I take four out and pop them into my mouth, followed by a glass of water.
I begin to feel hazey and collapse onto the tile.
I look back down into the bottle.
Might as well take [[five]] more to fully end this terrible life.
I take five out shakingly and pop them into my mouth.
I'm [[giving up]].
I've done enough suffering in my seventeen years. I'm tired. I'm weak. I'm ugly. I'm stupid. This life is not meant for me.
I feel myself weaken and fall to the ground. My lifeless eyes roll back into my head.
You could not [[ESCAPE THE MIND]]. Please try again.
Escape.
The only way to escape is sleep. Forever.
I look at the pill bottle on my nightstand beside my bed.
Sleeping pills will help, right?
[[one]] pill?
[[two]] pills?
[[three]] pills?
[[four]] pills?
[[five]] pills?