My stomach is churning and my hands are shaking, this overwhelming guilt is like a fog that has set around me. I have my note all written out and the words I HATE YOU are outlined in bold! As if they would care, I suppose that as they find me dead that she would weap for they money lost as I still was only a dollar sign. Each blow ever struck agasint me is fuel to my misery, each word that has stuck to me burns my skin. Each thought drives me to take each single pill. Each panadol is like the makings of a key, a key to unlock my misery! 24 panadols all sitting in my hand, I hold them protectivly making sure they are safe because they are my key to a better life. Isn't this going to be great, I take each panadol one at a time because I don't like taking pills. My heart begins to throb as I think of people who I love, which when I thought harder and harder was none and my religion was the answer, it was the solution. WHo did i matter to? Who really cared? No one
I dont know why I made my self throw up and not digest the panadols, I just dont know
but sucide is an experience which one can never forget and is like a reason to hang ones head in shame but I figure its time to release the memory because it is nagging me inside and bothering me
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