Archive for suicide

Sorry

Posted in Poems, Sad Poems with tags , , , , , , , , on December 19, 2013 by Myra's Circle

I’m sorry I didn’t think to be,
All that you ever wanted from me,
I’m sorry for ruining you,
More than I could have a clue.

I’m sorry for making you cry,
And sorry if you wanna know why,
I’ve lost too much, been stretched too far,
It can’t be erased by a single scar.

I’m sorry for causing so much pain,
I’m sorry I went so utterly insane,
I’m sorry, okay, that’s all I can say,
But it won’t keep the demons away.

You told me to fight, you told me to kill,
Those demons inside with all my will,
So I took the gun, and took the pill,
And sent those demons over the hill.

I’m dying, slowly, when will it end?
On the rope and the fan, or the railway bend?
I’m sorry I had to be here,
I wasn’t meant to be, that’s clear.

So here’s my ending, my demise,
Gone before the sun will rise,
You’ll wake up, and then you’ll cry,
And then you may greatly wonder why.

The end is soon, the end is near,
I’m sorry that it’s already here,
So hear me out, hear my voice,
I’m sorry I didn’t have a choice.

In a Memory She Forgot

Posted in Fantasy Stories, Sad Stories, Stories with tags , , , , , , on May 11, 2013 by Myra's Circle

The moment Ashlee opened her eyes that morning, she knew something wasn’t right; it was different, unusual, but at the same time, it felt incredibly familiar.  Familiar, the way a memory does, when you think back on it.  She got up, out of bed and looked around, noting how hazy around the edges everything looks.  A dream.  Yes, that’s all it is.  “No, not a dream.  Dreams don’t have feelings associated with them,” she murmured, still only half awake, though she knew the truth in her own words.  This – whatever it was – had a dark sort of feel about it, like a looming fate.  Ashlee suddenly and horribly felt a fear, stronger than any she had ever experienced.  Something wasn’t right.  Hell, she didn’t need someone to tell her that.  The obvious is always the worst thing anyone has to face.  Regretfully, Ash made her way to the door of her bedroom, and yanked it open, despite the fear of what was on the other side.  She wasn’t sure she was ready to face something as awful as it felt like.  Everything felt all too familiar to her.  To her immense surprise, the rest of the world was in order, the way it usually was.  Everything looked perfect, and orderly, which is what made it all strange.  “Morning Ash,” a cheerful voice calls out.  “Mum?”  “Who else?”  Ash cautiously found her way to the kitchen, scared of what she would find there.  All she found was her mother, making a breakfast of bacon and eggs, whilst singing happily to herself.  “Mum, is everything all right?”  Ash asks, edgily.  “Of course honey, why wouldn’t it be?”  her mum replies.  Ash wasn’t convinced.  Her mum seemed too cheerful.  She was usually OK, but this morning, there was definitely something wrong.  “It’s just, you’re acting too cheerfully, in the way that adults do when there is bad news.”  Ash’s mum frowned, and pushed a plate of bacon and eggs towards her.  “What do you mean?”  “Nevermind,” Ash muttered, with a dismal wave of her hands.  Without eating the offered food, Ash strolled back to her bedroom to get changed for school.  She left quickly, not answering any of her mother’s frantic questions.  Not that she even really heard them.

A few hours later, police turned up at the house.  Seeing the commotion on her way home from school, Ash ran as fast as she could, pushing people out of the way, eager to find out what had happened.  The dark feeling was almost unbearable by then.  When she had finally pushed her way into the house, she wished she hadn’t.  On the floor lay her mother, her body limp, bloody and lifeless.  Vacant tears streamed down Ash’s cheeks as she saw the slashes across her wrists.  Her mother, her life, her family – all gone in two simple sweeps of a blade.  She heard her own sobs, but it was as if she was parted from her own body.  As she collapsed to the ground in terror and grief, she screamed as she realised the memory had replayed itself again, and would continue to until the day she somehow forgot it.

Repentance

Posted in Sad Stories, Stories with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 7, 2012 by Myra's Circle

I wait there by the roadside, counting cars, praying that one will at least stop to give me food.  I’m so hungry, it’s been days since I last had a scrap to eat.  A tear slides down my cheek as I remember what I have lost, but that only makes me feel angry.  I only have a little water left in my body, so I can’t waste it on pathetic, self-pitying tears.  It won’t help me anyway.  I think again about the day I was thrown onto the streets.  I remember that day very clearly.  I had lost my husband months ago.  He committed suicide, and I’m convinced it’s all my fault.  He was the core of my existence.  After that, everything started to go downhill.  I had sold that old house we used to live in to buy a cheap apartment, but the money from that house only lasted so long.  I worked all day and all night to keep a decent amount of money in my pocket, but it wasn’t enough.  I stayed away from home for days sometimes, drinking and gambling away my money.  I figured I didn’t have much to live for anymore, so I thought it wouldn’t matter if I was cast out onto the streets.  I was so stupid then.  Even those heartsick moments were better than starving out here on the streets.  Every time I had to pay rent, I somehow convinced the landlord to give me another week or so, but I guess he got tired of it.  Even after all the extra hours of work, I couldn’t afford to pay for everything.  The landlord cast me out, leaving me with nothing but a few dollars.  I don’t have long to live anymore.  My body will slowly stop functioning, and then I will just be a pile of bones on the sidewalk.  I suppose, in a way, both me and my husband committed suicide like some cruel parody of Romeo and Juliet.  The only difference is, no one will mourn me.  I borrowed too much money from me friends and family back when I lived in the apartment.  They’ll be glad to see me go.  I think it’s a fitting way for me to die.  A sort of penance for my sins.  Repentance.    

Sweet Relief

Posted in Posts with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 18, 2012 by Myra's Circle

Murderer, whispers a voice in my head.  I scream.  “I didn’t mean to!  It was an accident!”  I clawed at my face with my scraggly nails, drawing perfect, red beads of blood onto my fingertips.  This blood is compensation for the blood she lost.  Tears streamed down my cheeks, and, sobbing I grabbed a knife.  It was a crazy thought, but I knew I needed to be punished for her death.  It wasn’t like I meant to kill her; we were just being foolish.  It was a class excursion to the waterfalls our town was so famous for.  We were having a particularly fun tickle fight, and the teachers had warned us about not going too close to the waterfall.  Of course, we didn’t listen.  We played to the end of the falls, where she lost her footing and fell.  I can still hear her screams.  They haunt my nightmares, which is why I can never get any sleep anymore.  Now I knew it was either death or nothing.  Her death ruined my life.  I will never forgive myself for what I did.  My life was now so empty without her gossip, her giggling.  I closed my eyes and plunged the knife into my chest.  Blood was now flowing everywhere.  A darkness enveloped me, and ripped me of emotions.  I felt one last emotion before the end.  Sweet relief.

I Will Be Okay

Posted in Love Stories, Sad Stories, Stories with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 20, 2012 by Myra's Circle

I will be okay.  I will be okay, I repeat to myself, over and over.  I take a deep breath in, and with it come all the memories from last night.  I let out a strangled cry.  I will be okay.  Tears streamed down my cheeks.  I had cried so much over the past few days that I would be able to drown myself in tears.  The knife flashed before my eyes and I felt like throwing up.  It was only when I felt around my mouth that I realised that I had.  Kasey, my best friend shot through my mind like a bullet.  A bullet.  Yet another killing device.  My knees buckled beneath me and I collapsed on the ground, exhausted.  I cried myself into the dark void that was sleep.  My dreams were of Kasey.

 

We were joking around with knives, something that we never should have done.  We were acting out a scene of a movie, and it was so much fun.  I was laughing so hard that I dropped the knife and it plunged into Kasey’s chest.  They called an ambulance, but it was too late.  Kasey was dead.  And it was my fault.

 

I woke up, screaming with agony.  I will be okay, I repeated again, then a horrible little voice in my head whispered, maybe you will be, but Kasey’s not.  Kasey’s dead.  The knife was still hidden under my bed.  I scrambled for it.  I looked at its ugly blade, twisted by Kasey’s dry blood.  I pressed the knife’s blade deep under the skin on my wrist, watching the blood flow freely out.  I closed my eyes and wished for darkness.  At last.