Note to Reader: I'm... I'm sorry. I said I wasn't going to be holding back here.

Warnings: anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide mention, suicide... attempt?, cursing, mentions of self harm, suicide hotline call, cursing

—

You're pathetic. Ugly. Fat. Look at you! I've tried to get you to stop eating. That didn't work. I even got you to punish yourself and you STILL didn't do it! What's wrong with you? You don't deserve this body. You don't deserve people calling you pretty. You don't deserve even the physical attraction people have for you. You can't even take Daren of yourself! You can't even stop eating! God what the fuck is wrong with you? You're disgusting!

No...

You're stupid. Pathetic. Fake. You act like you can do homework and handle school. You act smart when he only reason you're doing so well in math last year is because you took it the year previously and were basically just reviewing because you were too lazy to actually try and pay attention.

Stop.

You're fake. A try hard. Disgusting. You try so hard to be happy, like that you are. Then you turn around and leave these out in the opening obvious tells that you're not. You're BEGGING people to see that you have something wrong but you're so scared to depend on people that when people do notice, y I push them away and pretend you'd don't starve yourself. Pretend those are cat scratches or that you fell or that you ran itno a door. Who are you lying to? Surely not them.

It's not.... true....

You might as well just stop existing. Stop breathing. Come on, ASPEN. Come on, you pathetic piece of shit. Come on, Bitch. Come on ASPEN. Stop BREATHING. Stop LIVING. 

Shut up shut up shut up shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup!!!!

Make me.

I couldn't deal with it. The constant self deprecation. The stream of self hate. The eternal self doubt. The endless self loathing. I hated myself. I hated that I WAS myself. That I had my thoughts and my memories and my life.

All I wanted was for it to stop. The voices. The pain. The bad feelings. Everything. I just need it all to stop!

Never in all my life had I moved so chopping. So half undecided. I took a step and then stumbled as my other leg stopped me. But hat only propelled me forward. I stumbled-walked into the master bedroom, scrambling around panickedly. I searched every nook and cranny. I needed it. I knew it was here, I was so close. I could make it. I could get to it before my need went away.

And then I saw it.

Tucked away between eh top of the books and the shelf above it. In a bookshelf. It wasn't even cased. My dad didn't leave these just around. It just so happened on the one day when I finally decided to end all my shitty pathetic-ness, it was here. Just enough in the open to be seen. Waiting to say hello. Waiting...for me.

My hands wrapped around the cold, small, metal object.

A gun.

It was surprisingly light and fight in my hand well. I was familiar with this weapon. My fingers placed themselves correctly without having to think about it.every bit of sense that my step dad had knocked into me screamed as my finger gently rested against the trigger. Not pulling or adding any pressure at all. Just resting. Waiting. Ready.

Move, I commanded my arm. It did not respond. I glared.

Just do it. No one will miss you.

Your mom will be better without you around to remind you of her mistake.

Your dad will be better off in general. Can't you tell he's more than ready to forget that you ever existed at all?

You stepdad hates you, secretly. You irritate him. Anger him. Push his buttons. You're disobedient and high maintenance. Even though you try not to be. Say you're not. You are.

Your siblings would be better without you. Without you messing wi5 them. Getting them in trouble. Arguing with them. Yelling at them. Trying to o parent them. They'd be happier without you send to take up space and nag and pretend to be happy while you show them your marked arms because who else would you show? Because they give you that broken look so that you feel like you're loved. They'd be better without you around to scar them. To use them.

Your school would be better without you. All the teachers are annoyed with you. You're loud. Distracting. Annoying. Just go away.

All your internet friends will find other internet friends. They don't need you.

All your real life friends have other friends. You're not especially important to anyone. None of your "friends" need you. YOU need THEM.

Stop being selfish. Put the damn thing to your shin and pull the fucking trigger.

Move, I commanded my arm again.

But... but why if they do need you? What will your mom do without your help around the house? Your step dad doesn't do anything and she has so many little ones. And what if your little siblings are the one to find you dead? And what if you're helping your itnerent friends like you thought? Not many people know what to say like you do. You can help. And one day. You will be important to someone. Especially important. Maybe soulmates are real. Maybe there is someone somewhere waiting to meet you. One day....

What if after what if. PULL THE DAMN TRIGGER!

I couldn't even put the barrel up to my chin. I couldn't move it.

A huge breath escaped my mouth as I sat on the bed, my arm going limp. The gun rested half on my lap, my grip loose but holding on. Holding on to the only thing that I could. A gun. My eyes closed and the heaviness in my chest settled. I wanted to cry. I wanted to so badly. I wanted to cry and scream and hit the wall and more than anything I wanted to put that fucking barrel to my chin and pull the fucking trigger.

My body moved on it's own.

I put the gun back, not even remembering having stood or walked back to the shelf. I walked out of her room, closing the door silently behind me. Then I was in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes. My expression was as blank as my body was numb. I just stared forward, silence echoing and ringing like the afteraffects of a struck bell.

"Hey Hun!" It was my mom. I turned to face her because that is what one does when someone addresses them. I smiled and hoped it seemed real. She seemed to buy it. And that was it. If one thing had gone like I'd thought it would, my mother would have come home to a corpse. Or me, bleeding out, dying. I might even had been alive long enough for her to watch me die. But I was alive and okay and smiling and she didn't know how different this situation COULD have been. How easily this whole day could have been so completely and totally different.

It made that out of boiling oil in my stomach rage and I felt sick. I turned back to the dishes, scrubbing harder and forcing myself to not cry.

—

There weren't even words. Just screaming. The screaming had been constant and unending for days. There was no self abuse or bad thoughts or dark needs. There was no hate or madness or malice. There was only agonized screaming. My face was bright and cheery and behind my carefully placed mask, I was screaming. Tape over my mouth, body out of my control, but screaming. Bloody murder, throat-goes-raw, terrified, agonized, inhuman screaming.

Tonight had come though. Tonight had been it. I was done. I'd memorized my parents' sleeping schedule. I crawled out of bed at two in the ,orninf and for the first time all month, I was completely... okay. Not good. Not great. I wasn't HAPPY. But I soon would stop BEING and that made me okay.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, making sure not to wake anyone, I popped onto my toes. My arm raised and my hands wrapped around a large pull bottle. My eyes were blank and my face was emotionaless. No one could stop me right now.

My brain was pleading. The rational, selfless part of me that had stopped me the first time.

You're so young! You have all of high school! You've never fallen in love or had a good relationship or done something great. Your mom needs you. Your friends will miss you. Your internet friends need you! You have to keep going. This will ruin your mom! She just lost your grandma. Your grandma, who was her everything. Your grandma, taken my cancer. Please. Please please please don't.

I didn't care though. I was numb and empty and I shoved that part of me in a little corner. That part of me sobbed and begged and pleaded and I ignored it. There was nothing that could stop me now.

Pulling the bottle down, I held it in front of me for a second. I felt light and airy. Free. Like my soul was all too ready to leave my body. Ready to get out and away and set off. I almost smiled. Almost.

My fingers didn't fumble as I firmly and steadily uncapped the bottle. I held the bottle in one hand, offering my open palm. I cupped it and poured the pills out into my hand. They piled up. A beautiful neon pink color. I hated pink. There was irony in this situation, I know it.

The hand holding the bottle loosened and the now-empty container dropped, clanging on the ground with the lid. I didn't even notice it for a few moments. My eyes were focused on the pink pills in my hand. Small and harmless, individually, but deadly in such a large number. Could I swallow that many? Would I need water? How did I do this? Did I put all of them in at once and swallow clump by clump or did I just neck it?

Can you seriously not even kill yourself right?

Probably not....

You're supposed to be the happy guy.

I... I.... Sorry.

A sigh escaped from my nose, my ghost of a smile fading to a deep frown. My face was blank of any other emotion except the frown.

Hey.

Who are you?

I'm... usually not around. Not these days. I'm your hopes and dreams. Your creativity. Your pride. Your flirtatious side and dirty jokes and playful banter.

Oh.

Yeah where the fuck have you BEEN?

You're the one who told me to fuck off! Stuff it!

Okay okay whatever Geez. What's up?

Can we all just... stop for a second? Like crap. Life sucks man.

Tell me about it....

Yeah. I know you do. But there's... time, man. We're what? Fifteen? Dude. Humans live an average of 80 years at worse. We made it this far. Surely we can make it a little further. You're just going to throw away a possible 65 years?

Eh why not?

Because it's so stupid. There's so much time and potential. You don't even want to die. You're goign to feel like shit popping up in front of God - whatever form he appears in - having killed yourself. I know you crave the void, but even if God doesn't exist.... Your pain stops. But you don't want that either. Humanity hurts. Life is pain. Success was first struggle. Gain was first loss. Celebration was first agony. Discovery was first confusion. Conquer was first desolation. Hope was first lack thereof. There's so much to life... To give it all away is a horrible ending to a possibly terrific story.

But... but... But we suck! She's horrible! JUST DIE! PLEASE!!

You know, I think Hope over here has a point.

Go back to the corner, Joy.

Hey! Debby Downer! Chill!

What the fuck...

Yeah, you have a name too now. Deal with it.

If I may interject...

Who the fuck are you?

I am the  in this mess. The sense in the chaos. I guess you can call me Logic.

Mindy!

Um, what? Mindy? Who's that?

Because you're the thinking. The MIND. Mind-y! Mindy!

What the....

Anyway you were saying?

Yes. Right. Well, killing yourself isn't going to solve anything. It's not going to get rid of your depression. It is not going to bring your grandma back. It is not going to improve your races or get you better friends or gift you a better family, father, or general life. With time, you could gain most of these things. But, by ending it all, you are literally ENDING IT. ALL. Everything will be gone. Chance. Opportunity. Life. No matter how hopeless you feel, there is always hope. As confusing and irritating feelings are, they are there. But there is a balance of emotions. I think that suicide isn't even an ending of paint it is simply a transfer. Your family and friends and each person you gave even minorly affected will all feel your loss and your enormous amount of emotional pain will simply disperse between everyone else.

Oh.

So. Not today?

I like the not today idea.

We'll get to never eventually, but sure. Not today.

I hate all of you.

But?

But.... sure. Not today.

Let's go back to bed. Come on.

And so I did. And that was the end of it. Another chance missed and nakther night that could have gone so very, very wrong.... But didn't.