Angst Oneshots

Suicide Note-

I couldn't help but feel my heart growing heavy, a bad feeling in my gut. I unlock the apartment door, coughing at the coppery and sickly smell. There was a note on the dining table.

"To you, if you even cared enough to read this,

Sometimes I wonder if you are just unobservant, or if you do notice and just don't care enough. Because surely you saw the "scratches", the blood, the vomit, the tears. Surely? Surely you couldn't have just not noticed the signs. The withdrawal, the disassociation.

Mum and dad used to be appalled at you being so observant. So tell me, why didn't you care enough to confront me about it?

You never said it, but I knew you thought of me as weak. As fragile. Like a glass doll which will break if touched wrong. And the thing is, in trying to prove to you I wasn't, I did the exact opposite. I proved to myself that I was indeed that weak. Because your words cut deeper than my blade did.

"You can never do anything right. What is wrong with you? It's as if you break something as soon as you touch it. Get out of here, and stop ruining my things"

I spent my whole life after that staying away, but close enough so that if you ever needed my assistance in anything, I would be there. Because I would never let you feel as lonely as I did. Nevermind that even in your darkest moments you never chose me, because even your enemy was better than I was.

You believed that I was stuck up, and I let you, because I didn't want you to leave me when you found out I care about your approval more than I do for anyone else's.

"You look disgusting in yellow"

My favourite colour was yellow. I never touched anything yellow again. Hoping that you would not disapprove of my choices again. That you wouldn't disapprove of me again.

I wanted to be saved, but I didn't know how to ask to be saved.

I guess that's my fault in the end. I always wanted people to care for me as much as I care for them. I want them to notice me the way I do them.

Please don't blame yourself though. I wouldn't be able to find peace, even in death, if I knew you blame yourself for all this. It wasn't your fault i was so fucked up. It wasn't your fault that a blade and blood seemed easier to me than words and feelings did.

And sorry. Sorry for having existed. Sorry for ruining your life with my presence. Sorry for demanding your attention.

And sorry for using your pills.

From your sister, if you ever thought of me as one."

I forced myself to look away as I heard the sirens outside from my 9-1-1 call. Her lifeless eyes stared up at me from the floor, where her body laid in a puddle of her own blood and vomit. My bottle of pills scattered in the same puddle.

Oh how I wish I could redo it all.