Suicide

Sometimes when I am alone I think back to that night when my face stung like a hornets nest and my heart beat like a drum and I convulsed and tore out my hair and my eyes and I grabbed the brown belt from my room and I connected it to the leather one and I put one end around my neck and reached up in the dark basement where my dad hid his pot and his tools and tried to put it around that ceiling beam and I was very frightened but I was sick of feeling like I was a ghost reminding myself of that time I was alive and happy, so I reached up and I tried to tie the end of the belt but I couldn't and secretly I was happy but also ashamed because I was too weak and loved something about the world too much and so I couldn't do it and I wanted to die so much, I wanted to lay in a plush coffin and have people look at my sweet face and dream forever under the grass, I wanted people to beg me to stay and tell me it would get better, I wanted someone to hold onto, But I couldn't do it, I couldn't attach it, physically it wouldn't hold and I was kind of happy but I was so sore all over and I lay down on the sick carpet that looks like vomit and has been in my house since the beginning and I cried