Little Did She Know

          She walks through the front door. She just got back from school. She's been bullied all day. The "Mean Girls" spread rumors about her. The Jocks think she's disgusting. The Nerds don't dare say a word. The Musicians write ill-minded songs about her. She is hated by everyone.

          She looks into the mirror behind the door as she hangs up her backpack and jacket. She's crying. She's apologizing to herself and everyone else. She believes the rumors. She is disgusting. She is discriminative towards the nerds. She is what the lyrics sing.

          She's sorry. Sorry for not being skinny. Sorry for not being beautiful. Sorry for not being popular. Sorry for not being Perfect. Sorry for not being enough. Sorry for being anorexic. Sorry for being a vrgin. Sorry for being bullumic. Sorry for being suicidal. Sorry for being quiete. Sorry for not being enough.

          But she's tired. Tired of being sorry for the things she can't change. Tired of crying herself to sleep at night. Tired of faking all her smiles. Tired of constantly listening to music just to block everyone and everything out of her mind. Tired of being suicidal. Tired of being alive.

          She walks up the staircase, taking a right up at the landing. She opens the bathroom door. She closes it. She locks it. She opens the medicine cabinet. She takes her mothers razor blade, and slices through her skin. She releases her wrist, then slices again, and again. She doesn't stop until there is nothing left but blood and the lucious feeling of pain. The pain that she has held in for so long.

        She eyes a bottle of cough syrup. Reaching foward, she drinks the contents, draining the bottle. She coughs a couple times. She loves the thick liquid feeling on her tongue. She licks her lips. She reaches for all the bottles of medications, swallowing down each and every pill in the cabinet. She feels the burden of life lifting off her shoulders. She drops to the ground, weak, her sight shifting in and out.

        So this is what it is like to kill herself. She can't wait to meet the devil. She's going to nock some sense into him. She is going to rest in peace, at last. She's free from the fucked up world that drowned her in its misery. She can be happy now. But she's dead now. Her parents arrive home. They find her in the bathroom. Bloody arm. Empty pill bottles. Rusty razor. Empty cough syrup bottle.

        Her mother cries. Her father gets drunk. The "Mean Girls" at school, they regret everything they ever done to her. The Nerds feel pity for her. They no longer feel like the rumors of her discriminating them are true. The Jocks can't focus in class anymore. The Musicians write songs of her life. They dedicate every song to her for every day they have known her. Her little sister no longer has anyone to play Barbies with. Her dog no longer has a Fetch friend. The world is in grief.

          The next day, her mother commits suicide. The next year, her father goes as well. Her dog dies of cancer. Her sister is in the orphanage. Her school shut down the next week.

          Little did she know, she meant everything to the world. And yet, she was gone...