my last thoughts.
I'm through. There's nobody left. Only two. Where is one? Not speaking to me. I'm okay with that. She has a life, too. The other? Hates me. I wouldn't blame her.
I am currently sitting in a dark room, only illuminated by the faint aqua hue of an alarm clock. It reads seven thirty-six PM. January 15th, 2013. I was born December 1st, 1998. That makes me a little over 14, no? Yes.
Set the scene.
I hear my parents talking in the living room. These walls are so thin. I hate that. It's my dad's birthday today. Thirty-Nine years old. I can't do this to him. His father committed suicide when he was younger. Icanticanticanticant-
Yes I can.
My mother is cold. Not very motherly. That's all I'm going to say about her.
In my room, there are grey walls and bright, hardwood floors. What ever happened to softwood? You see there? I made a joke. I'm really not funny, as you can see. Anyway, there is a girl sitting in her bunk bed, soon going to be not living. An hour or two or three, she doesn't know. She is scared. The girl taps away on her phone, staring blankly at the keypad her thumb repeatedly presses.
She hates herself. Very much. She wants to die. She is incapable of doing anything right, constantly disappointing herself and others. She's calm, as of now. She's going to. She has to end it. She has to realize that time won't stop for her. Responsibilities will not vanish because of her immaturity and incapability of doing said responsibilities. She is worthless. Stupid.
She is glad she is going to die.
There is art supplies and a frappe on the floor. Papers and candy wrappers, pencils and articles of clothing. General trash. She sips from the coffee thoughtfully, putting it down and venturing out her room to kiss her mother seated at a computer desk, and hopefully talking to her about what she's feeling. The girl pecks her mom on the cheek from behind, only to get swatted away. Go figure.
Dad's not here. I don't know where he is. Oh wait, I just heard him cough. He's on the couch. I can't get up. My legs refuse to work.
Here's the sad part.
To Lilly, Thank you.
I really do love you. You say the same but playfully flinch away whenever i touch you. I know its fake, but every day it seems real. You were one of the two people who knows me for what I am, who's seen me at my all time lows and artificial highs. You for some reason put up with me, trying as hard as you can to bring me up and talk sense to me.
I can't say anything to you anymore. Goodnight.
I am disappointed in you. Carry on with your head held high. Just wait until you get out of that house. It'll all be over. Promise me one thing- you'll get our apartment one day. Grey walls and six dogs, remember?
I don't know what to say anymore.
I just wanted to get out there, that after tonight, either a part of me will be dead- or all of me will.
11/15? I don't know the date.