CUT HERE. Introduction.

         Sometimes I don’t even really feel like I’m real, or even really here. I think that this life must really belong to some character in a novel or to some actress on the movie screen. But then I realize this really is my life, as shitty and ridiculous as it may seem, this really is my fucking life. Right now I really don’t think that I want this life of mine, really. What do I have to live for?



         Tonight I am beginning to consider my options; death seems to be like the only real way out of this nightmare. I’ve always tried to shift the blame to someone else, maybe it really is their fault but then again maybe it’s really my own. I’m drowning in my own shame and weakness and there is only one way for me to escape.



         I plot my suicide as a way to wake up from this nightmare. Most girls slit their wrists, most girls take pills; by doing this they give other people time to discover them. I’m not like that. No way in hell would I give someone the chance to find me alive. I’d rather hang myself or take a bullet through the skull. I’m leaning towards the second idea because it sure as hell seems to be more efficient.



         You’re probably wondering what got a 15 year old girl to the point of taking her life. To be quite honest with you I wonder the same thing sometimes. What in my life has brought me to this breaking point that I seem to be experiencing? A girl with straight A’s, what seems to be the oh so perfect family, and several friends in the “in crowd”, why would she want to be ending her life in such a brutal way?



         As many people know, things aren’t always what they seem to be now are they? When I walk down the street and look into all those windows as I pass, I see all those happy families and I wonder are they really happy? Is the husband remaining faithful to his wife? Is the father of the children sexually abusing them in anyway? This questions go unanswered, because no one really knows what goes on behind closed doors.