My parents walked into the room silently, my moms eyes directed towards the floor. My dad stared hard, hiding his feelings, as usual.

“Gerard…” My mother said, pulling a seat towards the bed, putting a hand on mine.

I stare at the edge of the bed. It’s perfect, not a scratch or nook. I wonder what it’s like to be perfect; to know what to say always, to always look perfect, to get everyone you want. But I’m the most far away from any of those things.

“How are you feeling honey?” My mother asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, she must have been crying.

“I’m fine.” I say. I actually haven’t thought of how I felt. I begin to feel the aching in my stomach, or something around there.

“Hun… What happened? You can tell us..” She says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

“I accidently took too much medicine; I didn’t know it would do this. I swear.”
My dad keeping his same, blank expression. Then my mom sighed.

“Oh thank god, we really thought you were trying to do something else.” She says, giving my dad a smile.

“I wouldn’t try to kill myself.” I say, as knots form in my stomach. The words sound all too real when they’re all too fake.

“We know that son.” My father says, putting his hand on my moms shoulder.
My mom looks up at my dad and he nods. She stands up.

“The doctor is going to go over some stuff with you and he says you should be able to come home tomorrow. We have to go home now though, it’s already 11.” She says, now grabbing my father’s waist.

“Oh… Uhm, alright… How long was I out for?” I ask, confused.

“Two days… the doctor didn’t tell you anything?” My father says, annoyed now.

“Well, not really… He just said you guys found me and that I had taken several things.” I say looking down now.

“Alright. Well, he will probably explain more. He must have just wanted us to talk to you first.” My mom says, then walking up to me and planting a kiss on my forehead. “We’ll see you tomorrow, love.”

“Bye mom, bye dad. Love you.”
***
After my mom left the doctor came in. I found out he was Dr. Penschen. And he explained what each needle in my arm was, what they had to do to get the drugs out of my system, and what I’ll need to do when I get home.

Now it was late. It was 2am and the doctor had left. I had a room all to myself and the lights were dimmed. I could hear footsteps coming from outside every so often, passing by then fading.

Why do I have to be like this? Why can’t I just be happy? Every other person can just get over how shitty they feel, but me oh noo, of course I cant. I fucking suck at everything.

Suddenly I start shaking. Every feeling of failure is coming back to me, every little thing I’ve ever done wrong, rushing though my head. Tears start to slip down my face. This isn’t how I wanted my life to be at sixteen. I’m a sophomore. I should be having fun, partying, hanging out with friends. But instead, here I am; in a hospital room on a Saturday night crying after trying to kill myself. I ball my hands into fists and hit the side of the bed. I pull my knees up to my chest, a pain tearing through my stomach at the sudden movement. My elbows resting on my knees, I pull my hair, it hurts but oh well. When I release, raven locks lay in my hands.

I cant take much more of this, this is no life. Why couldn't I have just died? That's what should have happened. I'm not happy and i never will be.

The rest of the night i spent tossing and turning, trying to sleep but just drifting in and out of consciousness between silent sobs.

Notes

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