• By the time you read this, I hope to be dead.

    You can't undo something that's already happened, you can't take back words already been said.
    You'll think about me, and wish that you had been able to talk me out of this. You'll try to figure out what would have been the one right thing to say, to do.
    I guess I should tell you, don't blame yourself, this isn't your fault. But that would be a lie. We both know I didn't get here by myself.
    You'll cry at my funeral, you'll say it didn't haveto be this way. You'll act like everyone expects you to...

    But...

    Will you miss me?

    More importantly- Will I miss you?

    Does either one of us really want to hear the answer to that question?


    "Through all this Chaos called my life, they cut my heart with the sharpest knife. They make my life a living hell, I was happy then I fell. I am always wearing my happy face, now they broke it like a vase. From behind my locked door I hide, Wishing long ago that I had died. In my dark room I laid, crying softly my heart is slayed. My dreams are shattered my heart is torn, I am wishing I was never born. Taking out my silver blade, wishing all this pain would fade. Cutting deep along my wrist, writing words like a list. Hate, Anger, Pain and Sorrow, I don't want to live to see tomorrow. Hoping my life will just be ceased, from this pain be released." By: Zane Stanton