All I wanted to do was go back to sleep. I was tired, and I didn’t feel like dealing with anybody. I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. I turned the hot water on in the shower, just the way I liked it. I turned to look at my reflection in the mirror. Why was I doing this to myself? I felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn’t talk to anybody about it. They would think I was overreacting. Maybe, they would think I was just looking for attention, or that I was crazy. I didn’t want that. Looking at my wrists and the faint self harm lines that were on them, I started to cry. Nobody wanted me here.

I stood in the shower for thirty minutes. The hot water helped me think. I thought about my life, my friends, my family, my school. I thought about my mom, my 11 year old sister, Harmony, and my best friend, Paisley. They wouldn’t mind if I left. Nobody would. Nobody wanted me here.

After I got ready for school, I walked downstairs to eat breakfast. I always ate breakfast with my mom and Harmony. We never had much to talk about; we always sat in silence, no noise except for our forks clinking the plates and our glasses of orange juice being put back on the table. I don’t think we had much to talk about after my dad died. My mom had been depressed and stressed afterwards, so I understood if she didn’t want to talk or got a little moody sometimes. She yelled at me a lot, but I didn’t blame her. I would’ve yelled at me, too. I didn’t think she understood. I didn’t think she would miss me. Nobody would. Nobody wanted me here.

I never had very many friends at school. Paisley was popular, but she never invited me to hang out with any of her friends. She was my only friend, but sometimes I felt like she was embarrassed to be friends with me. She didn’t talk to me at school that much, but we hung out on the weekends at her house. Paisley was hard to relate to because we didn’t have much in common. She didn’t really understand anything that I was going through. I didn’t confide in anyone else but her. She was hard to talk to because she was never very empathetic. I didn’t think she would care if I was gone. Nobody would. Nobody wanted me here.

I sat in all my classes that day, the day getting increasingly worse. I couldn’t really say I was bullied because I never talked to that many people. People scared me. I watched so many people get judged because of things they did, mistakes they made. I didn’t want that. I knew if I told more people about my secrets, they would never look at me the same way. Trusting people was always hard for me. I was too scared to open up to people because I didn’t want to be bullied or have more people find out my secrets than I originally intended. All I wanted was to fit in. Nobody at school cared about me. Nobody did. Nobody wanted me here.

I was the first one home. My day was terrible. I went straight to my room. Blinking back tears, I slowly opened my dresser drawer. I pulled out the box buried underneath my clothes. It held my razor blade in it. My hand was shaking while I was holding it. I held it for about ten minutes. After that, I put the razor blade to my arm, applied pressure, and dragged it across my arm. It stung immediately. Shortly after that, blood rose to the surface of the cut. It pooled over the edges of my skin and flowed down my arm. It went numb. That was the feeling I craved, numbness from all the emotional pain I kept inside. Paisley was the only person who knew I did this to myself. I couldn’t tell anyone else. They would think I was crazy. They would think I was too young to know what depression was or what it felt like. I didn’t want anyone to think I was doing it just for attention. They would all think that. Nobody wanted me here.

I did it because I felt like I was drowning. I was drowning, yet everyone I saw around me was breathing. There was nothing I could do about it. No one understood how I felt. I could be in a room full of people, and I still felt alone. I was tired of being kicked to the ground and having to pretend like I was still standing. I had fallen too many times, and I couldn’t pick myself back up. My depression got to the point where all I wanted to do was sleep. I would’ve done anything to escape the pain that I was feeling, even if it was just for a few hours. I was slicing up my arms and crying for hours, and then I was going to bed before the sun had even started to set because I was afraid. I was afraid of the pain that the night always brought. I always thought too much when I was laying in bed at night. I thought about everything. Mostly, all the lies that I had told. I told everyone I was happy when I wasn’t. I told them things would get better when I doubted that would ever happen. I told them to always have hope when I lost all of mine. Also, I told them everyone was beautiful when I felt ugly all the time. I always told people to stay strong when I was breaking more and more as the days went by. I was done. I couldn’t do this anymore.

I was sitting at my desk, and I knew it was my time to go. I said that to myself over a million times, but this time I knew it was real. No one was home; it was the perfect time. I was ready. If I didn’t do it, I was going to look down on myself even more forever. I was just going to hate myself even more. No one would know until it was too late. Instead of getting a paper and a pen, I got the video camera out, along with a chair. I was standing on the chair. I decided to go with the rope; I would be gone instantly and there would be no noise. I tied one side of the rope to the top of my fan, and the other side was around my neck. I was in tears. I knew it was for real this time. I turned on the video camera and just stared at the red light, blinking upon my eyes. I tried to mumble out a few words.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m sorry, but I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Please, don’t blame yourself. I love you, please tell Harmony and Paisley the same. I’ll see you all soon.”
I said sorry to Paisley because I knew I wouldn’t be there for her anymore when she needed me more than ever. I said sorry to everyone I could think of, even myself. I was sorry for not being strong anymore. I was sorry for breaking down. I was unbelievably sorry for putting them through so much pain in their life. I stared at the red light blinking upon my eyes. One of my feet was off the chair now as I began to say goodbye. I had the remote control to turn off the camera in my hand. I clicked the off button; as soon as I saw that light go off, I went off. Both of my feet were then off the chair. The chair was on the floor. The room was filled with silence. I was dead. I was gone. There was no going back. Everything was over. I didn’t have to live in pain anymore, but everyone else would. I realized that too late.
My mom and Harmony got home. My mom called my name just like she normally did when she got home, but something was different. I didn’t answer. I always answered. My mom came upstairs thinking I was sleeping or showering. She opened my bedroom door and screamed at the top of her lungs. Harmony came upstairs after her.
“Mom, help!” Harmony screamed. She ran over to me, hitting my leg and begging me to wake up. “Wake up, Sierra! Please!” I didn’t answer, and I wasn’t waking up. I was gone. I was dead. There was no going back. My mom picked up the phone and called 911.
“My daughter committed suicide,” she whimpered. That was all she could manage to get out of her mouth. Harmony stared at her. My mom hung up the phone, and Harmony jumped into my mom’s arms, crying harder than ever. She was too young to understand completely, but she knew I was gone. I was dead. There was no going back. Everything was over.
The cops arrived. They pushed my mom and sister out of my room and sat them in the living room. They took my body down off the ropes and laid me on the stretcher. They covered my body and wheeled me out of the house. That was it. I was gone. I was dead. There was no going back.
Nothing was the same. Two weeks went by, and my mom stared out the window more than half of the day. Harmony still hadn’t returned to school. Eventually, my mom found to strength to go into my room. My door hadn’t been open for months. The rope was still laying on the floor, and the video camera was still sitting on the table. My mom didn’t dare to watch the video; it will never be seen. She slowly picked up the rope and threw it in the garbage. Chills ran up her spine; she was basically in tears. She brushed off my bed, making it neat like she used to do every morning after I went to school. My bed was made, and my room was clean. She shut the door, and it remained shut.
My school was still in distress. I thought no one cared, and I thought no one noticed me. There was a girl that said no to being my lab partner, and she cuts herself every single night now because she thinks it’s her fault I died. There was a boy that tripped me by accident and didn’t say sorry, and he’s in suicidal therapy five days a week in a hospital because he felt a smile could have saved my life, and he didn’t give that to me. There was a teacher that was hard on me one day because she knew I had potential, and she quit her job because she felt she wasn’t suited to teach anymore. I was gone. I was dead. There was no going back.
Four years had passed. Harmony was 15 years old, the same age I was when I committed suicide. She started a club in her school dedicated to me. She named it “Secrets.” The club was formed for kids to speak their hearts without anyone judging them. They could say anything they wanted to, and they could talk about anything they needed to. If they were suicidal, they always had someone. That was my problem. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I had everything bottled up inside of me. I acted like I was the happiest person on the planet, like I had the perfect life. I played that character so well, even I started to believe it. I would be so “happy,” and as soon as I laid in bed at night, the thoughts came back. A little fight between my mom and me set me off. With everything inside of me bottled up for years, it hit my limits. I was gone. I was dead. There was no going back. My room would never be occupied. My mom cried every single night. Harmony would never grow up with me by her side, moving her in the right direction. Paisley was still torn up. My school had a club dedicated to me so other students would not make the same mistake I did. My life was precious, and I took it away in the blink of an eye. All I needed was a smile, but since I had been gone, I knew how much people care. People had always cared. I was just way too upset to see that. I was too caught up in the fact that I thought no one cared, when the truth was more people cared about me than I ever thought they would. My town would never be the same. A girl is gone now, a special girl who thought no one cared. That girl was me. Everyone cared, they always had. They loved me, and no matter what, they would still love me, whether I was there or not. They always would. I was just too blind to see that when I was alive.