writer (c.a.l.m 5sos ot4) (boyxboy)

❁11❁

THANK YOU FOR 1K x3
Okay so I had no idea what to do for this chapter, but then I found my old diary... So I copied my diary (even though it was asf to read) into this and changed the names. So yeahhhh this has my old diary pretty much word for word so hopefully that makes it more realistic?

(WARNING: Suicide, self-hatred, and self-harm is discussed in this chapter)

Day of

Luke wrote these words in his notebook before putting it away. Today was the day.

No, he wasn't going to kill himself, although he wanted to. Not today, at least. He was going to go through one of his old notebooks.

This was something Luke liked to do every few months. He had his notebooks locked away in a box and he wore the key to it around his neck. Just kidding, the box had a passcode.

Luke had the box hidden under some clothes and when Luke went looking for it, he found it right in its place. He unlocked the box and rummaged through it. He had old pictures, diaries, song books, story ideas, grocery lists, artwork and knickknacks. To most people, this would look like a box of junk, but not to Luke. These were Luke's memories and he absolutely loved going through them.

He always seemed to find something that would make him smile. Today was different though. Luke was not in the mood to read something happy. Instead, he found his small white notebook with golden decals. This was his diary from when he was 12. He remembers rarely writing in it, so when he sees there aren't even 10 entries he isn't surprised.

By the time Luke was done reading it, he would be in tears.

Dear Kyle,

By the time you're reading this, all that has happened is probably over a done with. If you're reading this, I just want to start out with this: I'm Sorry.

I swear, if you're not Kyle, shut this book and put it back where you found it. I don't want anyone else to have to go through this as well. I really wish we still talked; maybe I'd be over depression by now.

I can't live without you Kyle. I really, really wish I could, but I just can't. It's too hard for me, Kyle. I don't think I can take this much longer.

Before I met you, I was struggling, of course, but I was surviving. I really was "still alive but barely breathing." Once I met you, I felt like I was actually living for once. I know, I know, it doesn't seem like a huge difference, but there really is.

Now that you're gone, I'm just dead inside. God Kyle, I just want to be dead on the outside too.

I have to fight every day, just to get up in the morning. It looks like I'm back to barely breathing.

Okay, I really wish I could write more, but I've got a lot of school to get done...

I love you Kyle.

Until next time,

~Luke <3

---

7 days later, at 2:40 pm

Dear Kyle,

Wow, I can't believe it's been a week since I first wrote to you now. I wish I could talk to you more often, but I have no time. I've got so many chores and such, and life, as always, is hard.

While I'm writing this, I keep thinking of things I want to tell you, but I keep forgetting. There's just too many things on my mind I guess.

Oh! I'm getting braces next week. I'm very excited for that (note my sarcasm).

I really miss you Kyle; it's just so hard for me to even write your name. I'm sorry my handwriting is so hard to read, I'm writing this as quickly as possible and my hands are shaking. I wish I was beside you, Kyle, so much right now.

I wish I could just write to you forever. I love you so freaking much. I'm so sorry for all the mistakes I've made.

My parents have been angry at me lately for being disrespectful. I've come up with an idea; why don't I just not speak at all? Then maybe they'd understand that their son is going through hard times and isn't just sad about a stupid crush.

It's not like I have anything worthy of saying, anyways. Scratch that, I don't deserve to be able to speak. I'm so stupid.

I guess, my parents must keep forgetting that their 12-year-old son is suicidal... Maybe they just want to forget. They probably do: I mean who would want a suicidal son, much less me?

Anyways, until next time... I love you.

~Luke

---

15 days later

Dear Friend,

I'm so sorry I haven't written you in so long! I miss you so much. I'm sorry this is so short, I have to go to a party with my mom later... ugh I hate people.

Talk to you later... I love you. (I'm sorry for not writing your name, it's too much for me)

~Luke

---

6 months, 26 days later

Dear Friend,

Can you believe how long it's been? Yet, I still think of you sometimes. Do you? Do you even miss me at all? I hope not, you don't deserve that feeling, especially not for me.

So how have you been lately? I've been better, you know, but I'm getting through the day. I still miss you though. I still cry myself to sleep. Remember when we'd text each other late at night and you'd help me fall asleep? I still remember those texts you'd send me. God I miss those nights.

Remember when you'd tell me I was beautiful? I never really believed you, you know, because I'm so obviously fat and ugly; so, so far from beautiful.

So you're vegan now, huh? That's right; I read that letter you posted online. I really wish you'd post more to be honest, because it means you're thinking of me. I'm so selfish, aren't I?

I can't believe I've stayed alive this long. I really hate myself. I hope you've forgotten about me by now, because I'm ready now.

I'm going to do it Kyle, I'm going to attempt. I'm such a coward, I can barely even write the word.

You know how people say suicide is the selfish route? It's true, I'm selfish. I'm not afraid to admit it. Well, to you at least. I couldn't stop myself from speaking, I mean, someone would notice!

Anyways, I don't want to feel pain though, Kyle. It's scary to think about dying because won't it hurt? Of course it will, obviously... it's death! I'm so stupid. I wonder how many sleeping pills it'll take to kill me? Probably a lot; you know how fat I am.

I guess pills are the easiest route. I could never cut myself, much less enough to kill me, no matter how much I deserve it. Just the thought of pressing down the blade and dragging it across my skin makes me feel sick. And, cutting means pain and bandages. Won't people notice? What if my mom saw? People will think I'm crazy.

Well, I am crazy, I guess. It'

-the next day-

Sorry for that cut off. I forgot what I was in the middle of saying... Okay, I really need to go.

~Luke


No date


As I watch the fire burn my skin, my innocence goes down the drain

I hear your voice ring through my brain, "I'm so glad you're clean."

What the hell is that even supposed to mean?

You know I hate lying to you, but you always fall for it

Why do you even trust me?

Every single smile I make is oh so fake, you always fall for it

Why can't you just fall for me? Can't you see broken I am?

Do you even notice, do you even care?

I want to tell the truth but you just wouldn't understand.

Isn't this funny, how the one thing that keeps me alive is slowly killing me?


About 2 months later

Dear Kyle,

Okay, wow, just wow. My handwriting was terrible.

Well anyways, I know I'm not going to see you anytime soon. It's been so long since I've written to you. Have you been writing to me? I may never know.

Oh right, you want to know if I ever attempted? Well I did, with pills like I said. Obviously it didn't work. I'm so stupid Kyle, it's unbelievable. I accidently took a hand full of aspirin instead of sleeping pills. Aspirin has fucking caffeine in it, so I could pass out.

After shaking in my bed for three hours, I couldn't take pain and pure fear of death running through me. I tried throwing up, sticking three fingers down my throat, but it only made me gag slightly. I just couldn't throw up.

It was such a terrible feeling Kyle, that death was so close yet so far away. The experience is engrained in me now. I ended up going into my parents' room and waking my mom up. It was 4 am by then.

She thought I just had a bad stomach ache, so she gave me these pink tablets. I forgot what they're called, Pepto-Bismol? I think that's it. Anyways, she tried to make me feel better. She stayed up with me until 6 in the morning, even though it was clear she was tired.

This made me feel even worse. I just tried to kill myself and now she's staying up by my side? I can't believe I attempted. I hide my suicide note, but now it's gone. I soaked it in water, making the ink unreadable. Then, I broke up into tiny pieces and put it in the trash.

Okay, I need to go now.

Love,

Lukey

---

11 days later

Dear Kyle,

Guess what? I'm thirteen now. I really thought I'd be dead right now.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've done something bad Kyle, something I swore I'd never do. I hurt myself.

Like I said before, I'm too afraid to cut myself because someone might see, so you know what I did? I baked. And when I took the pans out, I quickly pressed my wrist against the edge, immediately feeling the pain.

I accidently yelped, which made my mom yell from upstairs asking if I was alright. She thought I wasn't hurt too bad, I ran into walls and counters all the time. I slip on my own tiny legs pretty much daily. I had fallen down the stairs at least three times (once I bruised my tailbone, which is not fun) and I even fell going up the stairs before. So it was pretty logical for her to assume I just tripped.

Oh, I wish that was true.

---

Luke noticed there were no more entries. He didn't know why that last entry had no ending, but he assumed someone came home suddenly and his diary was hidden and soon to be forgotten. Luke was glad he wasn't wearing makeup that day, because tears were freely running down his face.

He was so glad last night was their last night on tour, because they would soon be going on a break. Luke needed to be able to write when he wanted and make more internet friends.

Luke would be able to wear whatever he wanted when he was by himself, without worrying if someone would walk in on him. He would visit his mom, of course, but he'd want to stay by himself for some time.

Luke needed to form a plan. There was something he wanted to do when the band's break was over. Luke was going to come out to his bandmates, he would tell them about the clothing he likes to wear and his depression. He would explain everything.

Then Luke was going to do it. He was going to commit suicide, but this time, he wasn't going to fail.