Category : Stories

Sub Category : Fiction

Tiffany Falls.
- Day I decided to die.

Hey Mom, if something happened to me, please read my journal.
-Tiffany Falls.

It’s so dark, here.

I’m sitting alone in my room. I let the music play on.

It has been three years I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety. I’ve done lot of things to harm myself. Just tried to tell my mom that I’m not okay. But she didn’t notice me. Should I try to kill myself so she could pay attention to me?

I know it sound childish.

Thinking about how to deal with those feelings and how to end my life is a stupid idea ever.

But I’m tired. My body, my mind, my brain, my soul. This demon took everything away from me. It drained my blood, my energy and I’m exhausted. At one point I’m thinking about suicide but I’m too afraid with the consequence like I will end up in hell or purgatory. Something like that.

I know suicide will never 100% ended the pain. It’s just stopped you to exist in real life as a human. Well, I’m not religious but you need to take your bullet into hell if you failed to live alive, means if you killed yourself like my bestfriend did long time ago. 

In my belief, if I ended up killing myself I will going to hell. No place in Heaven for me or for someone like me. 

Some people don’t believe with Heaven and Hell but I do believe it does exist. So even if I attempt to suicide it won’t work though. 
So it’s the least that I could do now. 

Thinking.

Hardly breathing.

Sweating a lot.

While I’m writing my journal. 
Because we will never know when the Death will come to say hello to you or to me.

Alone, in the dark. 

When all my mind is trying to break me down into pieces.

I’ve been hurting myself with cut, using hairpin or something sharp to hurt my hands, my favorite part to give a long red mark without bleeding lot.

No, I’m not afraid with this. I’m strong enough to holding the pain I guess, like tonight.

I turned off the music from my computer. And I’m sitting on the floor, staring at the ceiling with my numb empty eyes looking through it. I’m hoping and expecting to see an Angel or Jesus lends His hands to me, to reach me out or to bring me somewhere. Seems like I got a paranoia again. But it only happens in my head. 

Tiffany Falls, you can do it. Please, fight it! 
I keep telling myself hundred times. I keep praying and keep calling out His name. Until I’m getting sweat a lot.

I still want to fight but I’m feeling weak.

Hey God, I think I deserved much better than all of this pain. I do good. I helped people. I forgive my ex. I forgive myself. I’m trying to make Mom happy so she would proud to have me. At least, I can say that I’ve done something good. 

Do you think I deserve to die too soon? I’m not even ready to celebrate my next birthday.

Tell me or let me know. Do something!

I’m in between hopeless and the darkness. I see a hairpin on my desk. I take it and started to cut my wrist again. One stretch then two, three until I feel better but I never feel better. I’m not bleeding. It’s just left a scar, a long stretch red mark on my skin. It hurts like hell when you do it for the first time. But with all the sadness and burden in my heart I can’t feel anything anymore.

I’m not afraid. 

I’ve done it many times in many years and now it’s happened.
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