I woke up in an awful mood. I couldn’t explain why. I just was upset. There was something going on at the stadium that day, and I honestly don’t even remember what it was. It was the day before band camp, and I was losing it.
My mom tried to make me go with her to the stadium, but I wouldn’t. She got mad at me, and left. I went under my bed, and found my rope. I pulled the attic open, and went up in it. I tied the rope around a metal beam in it. I made a makeshift noose, as I was too much of a failure to be able to make a real one.
I put it around my neck.
I stood on top of my dresser for three hours. I had my blade up there with me, too. I cut up my hips, and watched the blood flow. As I was about to jump, I thought of something.
What if the rope broke? What if I was too fat for it to hold me? I started crying even more than I was before. That would be the most embarrassing thing ever, if I jumped, and the rope snapped. At that moment, I decided something.