A 200 word piece about a depressed person. I try to submit this piece for my school literary magazine in 2015 and it wasn't allowed in. The school counselor asked me if I was suicidal. Don't worry, I'm not.
It’s today. That’s what I think every time I wake up. Not that you actually care.
I don’t want to get up.
Breakfast is toast and grape juice. I’m going to sneak some coffee power while Mother isn’t looking.
I wish I was older so I can just drive off-. Forget it.
For once, could you just listen? Just this once? Oh. I guess not. Just endless, useless…yeah, definitely. It’s today.
Why do I even need to know any of this? Why am I coming here? I won’t come back after today. Really.
School was just like home. A place I don’t want to go to, a place I keep on returning to. I may be or I really am an ungrateful brat for thinking this, but it’s not enough. All of this isn’t enough. It should be, but it’s NOT. Why isn’t it? Do you hear me? Are you even listening?
I keep saying, every day, that “it’s today.” Today. Well, I mean it this time. Can you see? Do you care? If you do, then stop me. Keep me from pulling the trigg-