I clung to that bottle like it was only lifeline. I shakily brought it to my lips and began to drink more, killing myself inside. I gasped as the alcohol burned down my throat and I felt it move through my entire body like thousands of little spiders. I couldn’t think straight; all I knew is that I wanted the pain to end. I wanted it all to end. I had no purpose in life; I was a waste. No one loved me. No one cared about me. I am pathetic… That’s what the little voice inside my head was telling me. It kept saying I wasn’t worth anything and that I deserved to die. And the sad thing is… I believed every single word.

As I continued to drink, I could feel my body go numb. It was shutting down. I knew this was the end. I knew the pain would cease and I could sleep forever. The last thing I remembered was quite… Odd. The last thing I remember was that my body somehow got off the ground and carried itself, quite clumsily, down the hall. I have no clue how that happened, but I found myself in front of my mom’s bedroom door. That was the last thing I remembered before everything went black.

September 15th, 2011. That was the day I died.