It's all Over | Teen Ink

It's all Over

October 3, 2014
By Anonymous

The gun was pressed against my forehead and right as I was going to pull the trigger, I thought, “this is it.”  I pulled it, I pulled the trigger and the bullet pierced through my skull like a needle piercing through the ear of a young child.  It was over.  I felt nothing, it was a numbing feeling.  I feel to the ground, and felt my soul leave my body.  It was over.  It’s a good thing I knew there was no one left to care.  It was over.  There was nothing that would change because I was on this planet.  I was just a person who was just there, I had no effect on anyone.  They say suicide is cowardly and selfish, but it was the only way.  I knew that it was the only thing left to do.  Who would care about me? What good have I done on this planet? Why was I even brought on this planet? All I did was cause problems, and pain.  I caused pain.  I was now laying on the ground, and I was watching my body lie there rotting.  No one would know or care that I was dead.  No one would show up to the funeral, hell there wouldn’t be a funeral.  Well, as my dead body was laying there I watched from above.  I was watching my body rot, and my skin deteriorate.  Then I watched as he knocked on the door.  He must have knocked at least a hundred times.  It was painful, then I saw him walk along the side of the house.  As I saw him turn the corner into my backyard, I could see his heart drop.  I could see it in his eyes.  He saw my body, and he saw the gun.  He ran up to the sliding glass door, and kicked the door, shattering the glass.  He couldn’t hold in the tears, and they were running down his face.  He came up to my body, and checked my pulse, but it was too late.  He knew it was too late. He sat there, crying, sobbing, weeping.  He couldn’t control the pain.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I didn’t know I hurt him so much by hurting myself.  I then saw something more painful than feeling the bullet.  I saw him… grab the gun, and pull the trigger on himself.  That was more pain than I’d ever thought I would ever have to feel.  His dead body laid on top of mine, and then before my eyes, he appeared next to me, and he said, “I couldn’t live without you.”  I didn’t know my passing would cause him to feel like life was unbearable.  I didn’t know.  I’m sorry. I’m sorry to his parents, I’m sorry to his family, I’m sorry to everyone who loved him.  I’m sorry to him to feel like this was the only option, but sorry was too late.  It was all too late.  It was over.


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