(no subject)
You rejected me. You looked me in the eyes and said I no longer need you. You told me it was all over. You told me like it was no big deal. As my eyes began to swell, you could tell I was about to brake down to broken tears. You started to walk away, and I started to scream. I started telling you how I much I loved you, how much I needed you, how I couldn't live without you. You turned slowly and looked at me one last time. What you said Ill never forget. You told me I was useless. You said I would never be able to accomplish my dreams. You told me I would never go any where life. You said no one could ever love me. You said things that beat me down. Things that beat at my soul, my very being. You said things that take me to where I am now. Its not my fault. I didn't choose for my life to be this way. I never said I wanted to beat my self, or cut my skin, or eat away my self. I never said I wanted that. You as my father, my helper, my personal guide, you walked away from me. You didn't help me, you didn't want to. You lead me straight to this path. To this place that I dwell in. You told me it was safe here. You told me it was okay. My mother cries over a bed of roses. Her tears fall like water falls. Her soul is empty and her heart is yurning. Her cheeks are flooded and her body is sore. Her family said it would happen. Her friends saw it in me. My school told her. She believed it was lies, she couldn't force herself to believe that these people wore right. She saw the cuts she saw the pain, but she believed it was phase, she never thought it would really hurt me. She thought because you left I needed something more, something else. How right she was. I needed you. I needed you to tell it was safe that I was loved and that I would find someone to love me. You never did that. You left when I was 10. What was I think, what was I do. I hid my pain for years. At 16, I finally gave up. I finally cut my skin, I finally dug deep down into my self, all the way to the bone. That night on my 16th birthday; I died. My mind had died the day you left, but now soul has finally died. I leave notes in my room talking of my pain, of my sorrow, of my selfish misery. I leave a note for everyone I love. For my mother, for my friends, and for the bastard that left, on that cold dark night. I left stories in my journal that would describe in perfect words what I felt. Words that other girls could relate to. Stories of love, pain, a will to die, being rapped, and having responsibilities. I leave stories in a journal, in place I felt I could only be my self. I left a journal for all to read. If you read this you know its to late to save me, but I choose to save you. My father left me, my mother is uncontrolled, my siblings play no part, and my lovers constantly change. Some of my stories are true and some are not. My stories come from my mind, and play on my emotions. My stories guided when no one else would. My stories are only here to help you feel like someone else understands, when you think no one does. My stories are not here to make you feel bad, or want to kill your self. My stories are here to show that people do care, people do relate. Please remember no matter who you are, or what you do, or what race your from, someone loves you, someone cares, someone will always be there. Remember there is always "Life after Teenage Suicide."