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I Hate This Life

I stared at the pills in my hands. I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought to myself. I thought about all the people I was leaving behind. What people? a voice in the back of my mind stated No one likes you. Your parents are never home; when they are, they ignore you. Your friends—you don’t have any. Other family? Forget it. They don’t call on your birthday or come for the holidays.

The pills were getting warm in my sweaty hand. I knew I’d have to do this soon, or it wouldn’t work. I looked at the clock: 5:02 AM.

I lifted my shaking hand to my mouth.

No. I can’t do it. I can’t kill myself. I can’t OD. I can’t end my life; I have to turn in around.

I have to build up a wall that no one can get through. A wall of protection and self-happiness.

Two More Years, and I have a fresh start.

Two More Years and I’ll be away from the losers who bring me down everyday.

I throw the pills down the toilet and flush.

They’re in the sewer now, I think, and smile to myself. I’ve conquered.

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