Diary of a Suicidal Girl, Theslana Dragonborn [good short books txt] 📗

of doom. If you don’t mind guiding my life to the time-travel place, I now know all the decisions I can make it better. But I don’t wanna go back to life. Life is too bitchy and mean and shitty to go back to. So scratch that. I’d rather live in Hell than go back to Earth or see my family in Heaven and have to deal with them asking why I did myself in. Better yet, no afterlife. Just sleep. Eternal sleep, no dreams, no nightmares, no nothing. Speaking of, I’m getting very sleepy. Diary Entry 8

I'm absolutely useless. What's my point? Nothing. All I'm there for is for my mother to have something to yell at because I can't do anything right. I wonder if she’d have a better time in life without me. Always saying I ruined her plans for her future. She never wanted a child. She says I don't listen enough. But if I listen more, I hear stuff I don't want to. How about that, huh?

Diary Entry 9

 “I want to get piercings and tattoos.” I don’t know if I’ll live long enough to get them. “I want to grow flowers and breed them.” I don’t know if I will stay sane long enough to do that.“I want to marry and have kids.” If anyone will accept me the way I am. A broken heart, a dirty body, a torn soul, a girl in extremely horrible condition. Those are my assets, and they aren’t sellable. I’m a broken doll. I’m half alive. I’m not a queen, not a princess, not an angel. I walk one foot in Hell and one foot on Earth. I’m too delicate now, balancing between life and death. A butterfly that has too many things weighing down on it and couldn’t can’t fly. I can’t stay like this. I want to move on, but I’m too deep in the pit of despair and I’ve ruined my hands. I can’t climb out. Somebody please toss me a rope.

Diary Entry 10

 Today I laughed. I didn’t feel better. I laughed and couldn’t stop laughing because of the irony of me laughing and the fact that laughing felt so good because it made me breathe. I’m still breathing. Breathe, in out, in through the nose out through the mouth. I’m drowning in depression. That rope you tossed me is frayed, and all that happened was I fell back in. Climb in and bring me out please. Help. Help. HELP. I want to breathe. I want to be with you, even if it hurts me. Because that pain makes me know I’m alive. Help. Help me. I’m breaking too slowly. It hurts. I want to die, it hurts so much. I want to die, because of how much this sadness weighs down on me. Carry my burden please. Ease my pain. Or just end it. End it, and everything will be over. Just kill me now. Breathing hurts. Talking hurts. Crying hurts. Living hurts. Why couldn’t you have just ended it when you tossed me back in?

Fuck Life.

 If you've actually read this to the end, I'm surprised. This is me just ranting out my feelings. This is what the mind of one suicidal psycho girl is like. I have to keep up a strong front though. I have so many people depending on me that I don't feel I can bear. Life is a bitch. Life is horrible. If you have people you need to help, to hold, to be there for, be there for them. Take care of them. Hold that life that is in your hands preciously. I'm torn between dying and letting go, or helping out the people who need help more than me. There are people there that I know would be hurt if I gave up, so I'm holding on still for them. Not for me anymore. It hurts too much to hold on for me. So this is a goodbye. Or a hello. I'm not sure anymore.

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Publication Date: 05-08-2017

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