What is My Name

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  • Published: 30 Jul 2013
  • Updated: 30 Jul 2013
  • Status: Complete
How one life ended due to the hurt that people distribute generously.

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The second she got home she searched the house for anyone. She didn't want any interference. After she determined the coast was clear she went to the garage and got some green rope and went up to her room. 

Her room was in the attic painted purple, her favorite color. Not that anyone gave a shit about that. She had so many posters of anything and everything covering the the walls so that you could barely see the purple. She had an old faded wardrobe and a small bed with a gold metal frame covered in stains. The thing that she went for first though was her small desk. It would be a mystery for her forever of what that desk looked like, because ever since she was little it was covered in a clusterfuck of things, from research papers to pages from books. She went over to it now sobbing loud, her face scrunched up and tears streaming down her face. She pushed over a stack of papers looking for a pen and a piece of paper. She found a paper titled, "Flowers for Algernon. A book report," The back was blank. She picked up the mug that she found the pen in and threw it as hard as she could at the opposite wall, screaming as she did. She grabbed the pen and started to write.

 

Hello. I am tired of the world, and the world was always tired of me.

I am unwanted, unloved, and stupid. 

Everyone hates me, and I hate myself, I have since I was seven.

All my life I was told that it gets better, I could be whatever I wanted to be.

I can't be whatever I want because no one believes in me, and therefor, I don't.

It's hard to love yourself when no one else does.

I know what people have done to me is wrong.

I can't watch everyone else get a happy ending. It makes me feel empty.

Everyday I wear a jacket to hide the cuts. They aren't little. They run deep.

If I close my eyes, nothing changed at all. 

Pompeii has been raging in my head since I was six. That was ten years ago. 

My brain is filled with ash and dust. The walls keep tumbling down in the city that I love.

If you think that what you are doing is OK, that I just shake it off after you say what you do,

YOU'RE WRONG!!

Hopefully this will show you.

Sincerely,

You don't give a shit.

 

A few spots had been smeared due to the tears she was shedding. As soon as she was done, she reached under the bed and grabbed a hammer. She took the hammer, held up the note to the wall, and hit the wall with the end that pulls out the nails at the top of the note. It stuck in the wall.

She walked over to the desk, grabbed the chair and the rope and went over to the fan. She put the chair underneath the fan and stood on it. She grabbed the rope and tied it around the top of the fan. She fashioned a loop on the other end, and made sure that the knot wouldn't slip. A large boom that shook the room silenced her cries and made her look out the window to see large black clouds rolling over the hills, turning the whole sky black. A few lightning flashes and thunder clasps later, a few drops came down and hit her window.

She went back to what she was doing, back to her screams. She took the rope and put it around her neck and kicked the chair out from under her without any hesitation. She didn't struggle, just sat there, waiting for it to end. She rotated around to see her window. The rain now buckets, dumping down on her window. She couldn't hear anything now, all she could do was make out a smile, the first real one in ten years. There was a grey tunnel, getting ever bigger. All she could see was the rain on her window, rolling down the glass. It was happy sign. The rain would wash her away, to a happy place. Where someone would love her. Then all went black. She could no longer feel the tears slipping down her pale cheeks. 

Her body would be found along with the note. It was presented to the people at her school. While the people were upset that such a thing happened, they could not seem to even recall her name.

 

 

 

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