Suicide

Louis has never dealt with so many emotions at once; the pain, the anger, the guilt, and despair are all fresh, and they sting.


And all he wants to do at this point is disappear.

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1. Mistake-;

 

"This is society. You'll be judged for whoever and whatever you are, it's inevitable. If you're not attractive enough, others will push you away. It's going to hurt like fuck, and it's ridiculous how some of us still even bother with trying to fit in with the rest. No one here appreciates difference. Sometimes, I feel like I'm breathing the same air as a bunch of self-absorbed clones. Everybody likes the ones who whore around and beg for attention, and they ignore the ones who try to look happy, putting on a fake smile when on the inside, they're breaking, tearing apart. 

 

I'm sick of it."

 

 

Louis stares at the pills in his hands and re-counts them for the umpteenth time. Nobody's home, leaving him time to just feel everything for the final time. 

He uses his free hand to feel around his bed, around his walls, and simple things like photos or clothing. Tears seep out of his eyes as he lays back down on his bed, plopping a pill at a time into his mouth, one by one. Louis swallows them with no regret, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. 

He replays old memories in his head, smiling slightly at the funny ones. By now, he's sobbing uncontrollably and he makes sure to take all these memories to death with him.

 

"I love all of you," He whispers.

 

 

Is this how death is supposed to feel like? Blackness, and nothing else? Your body remains intact but you feel light. 

It's amazing how, because it's undescribable... that is why, it's irreplaceable.

 

I'm gone. 

 

 

 

 

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