i swim for brighter days.

The end.

Her hands shake. Her eyes burn. A thin line of crimson tickles her once pearly skin. Her breath is increasingly weak, yet each one exhausts her. Her dreams lay in defeat, but still seem slightly palpable. Her tears run into the river they created for her. A grave they dug for her. An underworld they conjured with their bare hands. There is no sound…none at all. Only clicking machines. Only receding breath. Only the subconcious echo of their words. Disgusting. Worthless. Repulsive. Gross. Dyke. Bitch. Slut. Whore. Go Die. Cunt. Fuck you, ugly bitch. You aren’t wanted. We all hate you. Go kill yourself. Go slit your wrists. No one gives a fuck about your life, bitch. Laughter. Agonizingly cruel, piercing laughter. It rings in her ears. It’s branded into her heart forever. Forever. 

Is it too late? No, perhaps not - yet, the vigorous voices continue to plague her feeble heart. Ruthless taunting. Savage words slice her into a million little pieces and whisk her away from life. The hatred is unbearable.

Her mother’s shrill scream might have reached the moon that night. She came home from work late, and the moment she walked into the house…she knew. The thin paper seemed a million miles away. The whole wide world jerked to a halt. Her only daughter’s tear-stained handwriting split every ounce of happiness she ever had. Up the stairs, around the corner, into the bedroom. A mother picks up her baby girl. Her dead baby girl, laying in a pool of her own blood. The screams. The terror. The silent breaking of a mother’s heart. Her angel, her only hope, her only reason to live - gone. Dead.

Do you think that your words don’t fucking hurt?! Because of your “innocent jokes”, a father will never get to walk his baby girl down the isle. A mother won’t be able to meet her first grandchild. Parents won’t ever see their son graduate high school, go to college, grow old, make a difference, change the world. You think that these kids have ISSUES? These kids are beautiful. They were just never taken seriously. They were never give the time of day. They were never given a chance at life. You STOLE that from them.

Suicide as a result of bullying is NOT really suicide. It’s homicide. Murder. Cold blooded murder.

Every word makes a difference. Every. Single. Word.

It’s never too late. Never.