A teenager´s Suicide

Decent Essays
You’re sitting at your desk,with your long, light brown hair in a plait falling naturally over your left shoulder. You’re looking down at your harmed wrists. Looking down at them, realising that pain you had given yourself, just isn’t as surreal as it used to be. You’re breathing heavily now, saying to yourself “It’s time to go.” Repeating those four words over and over again. School just couldn't have been worse today, and of course your parents were yet again fighting around your wooden eight seater dining table at breakfast today. You can’t seem to find anyway out of your depression, you’ve battled it for years, striving for some kind of incentive. Maybe you were just looking for that serendipity that never came.
No one is home, you believe it’s the perfect opportunity. You take a deep breath and think if you don’t do this now, you, and everyone around you is just going to look down on you, hating you forever. You see it as some kind of game, that such a horrific thing like taking your life could actually be humourous. It’s not, nobody is laughing and they’re never going to.
You gather up the rope, the video camera and the chair because you’re just that desperate to leave. You’re not even thinking clearly now.
You’re standing on the chair in your spacious bedroom. One side of the rope is tied up to the ornate fan while the other side is loosened around your neck. You’re standing there helplessly looking down at your tanned brown legs, looking down accepting that this is
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