Personal Narrative: It's Suicide

punishment. “ ‘Only . . . I want to die as myself. Does that make sense?’ he asks. I shake my

"Honestly, I don't plan to kill you," Charles murmured, stepping past Brandon with the anti-necrolyze rifle in his hands. "You took away my ability to take care of my family, so I guess it's just fair if I do the same to you. Now, you get to feel the helplessness I've experienced." And he walked away with a guffaw. "How satisfying!"

“My ex-girlfriend was taken away by the cop and taken to the local jail. My ex-girlfriend’s Dad showed up and I rode back with him to their house. Finally my parents came and picked me up. I went home and maybe got two hours of sleep, if you even call that sleep. The next morning, I went back to my ex-girlfriend’s house and she was later released from jail that day. For the longest time, we would just sit there in silence, because, what do you say? It was time to comfort one another. I not only felt bad about the whole situation, but I knew no one was going to believe me, us. Believe that a girl purposively jumped into the moving vehicle. I later learned that the girl who died had been suicidal. Earlier that day, before the accident,

“I have no idea.” He screams as he’s losing blood at an alarming rate. I take my coat and tie it around his chest to stop the bleeding and we keep running.

I’ll simply knock you out and pick the lock myself.” he explains, slowly. His face leans closer to me, his breath on my neck and his lips on my ear as he speaks. I shudder at the close contact. “And I doubt you want to be unconscious again. You never know what might happen when you’re not awake.”

“You sound like you were expecting to have me killed,” Chandler the Fair muttered in a sarcastic tone.

"Maybe you should be afraid, then, because if I had my way you wouldn't be alive for much longer."

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Can you sit up?” I say and he can, really slowly and with the support of me and Vic.

“You’re all idiots, you’re all going to die.” The man said. “You think you can come here and attack Rosina for no reason.”

“I’m appalled at your lack of faith in me. We’re leaving together if it kills me.”

“Keep playing. Look, they're waiting for you to make your choice before continuing the scene.”

Imagine you are drowning, and people consistently tell you swim; yet you do not know how. That is what mental illness feels like. I was diagnosed with depression when I was twelve years old. I had constant barraging thoughts of suicide and I was rarely happy. I cut my right wrist with a pair of sharp fabric scissors that I used for making blankets. I hated myself and thought myself to be irrelevant to my family and my community. It was as if there was a crushing weight on my chest, and I was dealing with things that no twelve year old should have to deal with. My father would get angry and yell, I felt that my mother wouldn’t understand what I was going through so I withheld information from her, and I was even letting my

One Friday, I came home from work as usual at 6pm, and sat down at my dining table. I had in front of me a glass of red wine, about a hundred pills, a blade, and some alcohol pads for disinfection. I was having a fight with my boyfriend over text, who was in Charlotte at that moment for business. Once he stopped replying, I sent him a text that read, “I am going to kill myself.” Within minutes, I heard someone bang on my door. It was the police. My boyfriend had called 911 to report my potential suicide. I had been mentioning suicide in our conversations for a few weeks, to be fair. Caught in the scene, I was brought to New York Presbyterian Psychiatric Emergency Room in an ambulance. “How much is this going to cost? Because I can’t afford

I don’t have time to see if she understood because her legs give out and Nick is forced to pull her up into his arms. We don’ have time to discuss anything since we had already stayed here to long and the police were probablu nearing. As this thought goes through my head I hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance. Our eyes meet for a second before we run out of the gym. We are able to make it into the van in under a minute and I slide into the drivers seat before any ofi the other guys are even opening their doors. I turn the van around and we manage to make it around the cornor before the first police car

    “I know, but you make it seem like you want him to die, like he’s mean to, in fact.”