Diary of Suicidal Girl

 

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Diary of a Suicidal Girl

Suicide is never easy.

Natalie Tan is sick and tired of being a failure. She's also fed up of lying to her family and friends. She wants out—for good. But on the day she decides to end her life, a new roommate joins her in her filthy twenty square meters dorm room, messing up with her suicide plans.

Natalie is determined to go as planned—or die trying.

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Aug. 22, 2015

9:00 AM

The room smells like piss and melancholy.

Soon enough, the small dorm room will reek of death as well. But that can wait for a few minutes. I try not to rush. In case, I forget something to write in my letter. The bucket full of my urine burned my nostrils. I inhale strongly. I welcome the smell. It reminds me what I have become these past few weeks. Why I am doing this in the first place. And why I deserve to die.

I think hard. Choosing carefully the words I am going to leave behind. For all my talk on wanting to become a writer, I still struggle on writing my suicide note. It isn’t easy. I want them to understand why I was doing this. Especially my brother. He’s an overachiever and it will be hard to make him see why I want to end my life. I don’t want him to blame himself. It isn’t his fault. He tried his best to help me. The fault is on me. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, in the end, I fuck up.

I am a failure.

There, I said it. I am a failure. I have failed my Papa and Mama. My brother. My bestfriends. I am nothing but a disgrace. I have been lying to them all this time. The guilt has driven me to this point. I have no face to show.

A tear finds its way down to the paper I am writing on. It forms a small wet spot, I smudge it, willing it away. But just as soon as I do that, another tear drops, betraying my emotions.

I am crying. My chest hurts. I told myself I won’t cry. But it’s hard not to.

Maybe if I call my parents right now, and say sorry, they won’t be as mad as I think they’ll be. But I am afraid of how they’ll take the news. I failed them so many times. This will be the last straw. I should just die. I am doing them a favour. Papa and Mama don’t deserve an ingrate daughter like me.

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Aug. 22, 2015

10:00 AM

I just finished writing my suicide letter. I tore a page from this notebook and folded it neatly. It is sitting on my desk, waiting for someone to read it. It’ll be the last message I have for my family and friends.

Right now, I am holding the rope I am going to hang myself with. It is ten meters long. It is sturdy. Perfect for breaking my neck. I think I can count on it to do its job. I should probably get on with it, before I lose my will to do it. I know it will hurt. But… will it hurt much? I wish the pain would go away quickly. I wish I wasn’t such a failure. I wish there was a way out.

But of course, there is a way out. And that is what I’m about to do.

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August 22, 2015

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Aug. 23, 2015

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August 24, 2015

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