My therapist finished up the session by proclaiming her signature ‘don’t forget, you’re worthy of life!’, but I was inclined to disagree. In fact, as I walked down the stairs out of her office and fell on my ass, I decided I was going to kill myself. Admittedly, I’d been planning on doing it for a while, but this latest session with Jessica Fuller, who I solely referred to as Jesus, had cemented my resolve.


Jesus was literally the most incompetent working professional I had ever met. Not JC, I mean Jessica. Like, I’d been telling her in our sessions for the past two months that I was happier than I’d been in a while, that I was doing better. Truthfully, I’d been planning my suicide for the past twenty-six days. I was a much better liar than people gave me credit for. I mean, I was literally planning on killing myself in less than thirty-two hours, and my therapist just let me walk out of her office and go on my merry way. My family, too, believed me when I said I was doing well. My mom even unlocked the cabinet where we kept the knives.


I emerged from the dungeon that was Jesus’s lair a.k.a. her office, and onto Montpelier Ave. The warmth from the sun beamed down on my face, but I was already pretty hot from the sweltering flames of hell in the aforementioned lair, so I just wanted it to be cold out. I laughed at the irony of my joke, and walked down the cobblestone street to get some ice cream. I briefly considered the idea that I might be spending the rest of my life in a fire-filled pit before reminding myself that I didn’t believe in God.


I ordered a large German Chocolate frappe because I figured, screw it, I’m about to die, so why the hell not. I’d been imagining myself in a coffin fairly frequently these past few days, and for a moment I thought maybe I shouldn’t risk looking fat in the blue dress I wanted to be buried in, but in the end my desire for the frappe won.


I went into the back room to enjoy my beverage like the lonesome loser I was. It was weird to think that this was the last time I’d ever eat ice cream, the last time I’d ever sit in Francine’s Fantastic Frozen Foods alone, by myself. The first thought made me sad, but the idea that I would never have to be seen looking like a fool by myself overjoyed me. This was precisely the reason I wanted to kill myself in the first place.

I made an obnoxious slurping sound when I got to the bottom of the frappe, and then got up to leave. I almost threw the cup away, like any normal person would, but for some weird reason it had some sentimental value to me, seeing as it was My Last German Chocolate ice cream experience ever. I carried it out of the shop and into my car.
I got home at around 5:30, after my pointless final therapy session and crawl through the town.

“MOM, I’M HOME!” I shouted as I flung my leather purse up the stairs. My little brother ran up to me with the most excited look on his face.

“Bethy! Mom got me the new version of Call of Duty!” he was practically jumping up and down, his tuft of bangs moving with him. “Wanna play with me?”

“Sorry Todd, I have some homework to do. We can play tomorrow night, ok?” At least I would have one day to play with him before I left. He looked earnestly disappointed, and did his cute little frown/shrug combo before running down to the basement to play by himself. I worried about how he would take my suicide. I knew people were supposed to have this feeling of duty to their family members to stay alive and keep fighting through the pain and darkness of clinical depression, but I didn’t have it in me anymore.

My mom came down the stairs with a basket full of laundry. She smiled big at me, put the basket down, and embraced me in a gigantic hug. I honestly couldn’t even handle how fake she was being. I halfheartedly returned the hug before pulling away.

“Hi sweetie, how was your day? How was your therapy session? Did you get ice cream?” she asked, pretending to be interested, but I could see right through her facade of love.

“School was fine. Therapy was fine. The ice cream was good,” I responded, trying my best to show her that I was not interested in talking.

“Yeah? Tell me more! How’d your classes go? Did you do a lab in chemistry today? How was math? Did you get your test grade back? I’m sure you did great!” I almost lost it and told her to shut up and quit pretending to be interested in my boring-as-hell life, but I controlled myself. My cardinal rule was that if my ship was going down, I wouldn’t take anyone with me. One more day. I could make it one more day.

“Yeah, it was fine. No grade back, and no lab,” I lied. We did do a lab, and I did get my test back, but I was not interested in continuing the conversation. Even more so, I wouldn’t be able to handle her congratulating me on my 98 on my math test. I didn’t care, she didn’t care, no one cared, so I didn’t bother.

“I have to go do some homework,” I mumbled as I slinked out of the room and up the stairs.

“Ok! Good luck! Let me know if you need anything!” she called after me. I made a weird growl/snort sound of disapproval before closing my door. I made sure to shave my legs and armpits extra well so I’d look snazzy in my coffin. I even plucked my eyebrows and put on a face mask so I would glow even in my death. If all the people who pretended to care about me were going to show up to stare at me in a box, I figured I should look good, because at least then maybe they’d be like, ‘s*** she was a babe maybe we should have befriended her’. I almost wrote down a list of do’s and do not’s for the embalmer at the funeral parlor so that she wouldn’t make me look like a fool, but then decided that might be overkill.
I put my favorite footy pajamas on and climbed into bed. This was the last sleep I would ever wake up from. The last time I would ever lie in my bed. It pissed me off when people said death was like sleeping, because I’m pretty sure it’s not. Sleep is temporary, and death is permanent, so thank God for that.

I woke up to my mom gently shaking me awake at 5:48, exactly one minute before my alarm went off. Why she couldn’t have waited for me to wake up on my own was beyond me.

‘Bethany, wake up sweetie!” her shrill voice annoyed the crap out of me.

“meh,” I replied emphatically. “Hi, mom,”.
“I wanted to wake you up to-”
“And we can’t stop, no oh oh, and we won’t stop,” Miley sang to me from my phone in alarm form. I slid to turn alarm off.
“to say goodbye. I won’t be home until around nine tonight, so have a good day! I love you!” she said. My stomach dropped. I was never going to see my mom again. She would never see me alive again. I had a sudden urge to tell her what I was going to do, but it went away as quickly as I came. She wouldn’t care. She’d probably encourage it, actually. She didn’t want me around anymore that I wanted to stay.
“Bye, Mom,” I said, keeping my grogginess intact even though I’d never felt more awake. She kissed me on the forehead and left. I whispered love you, mom again as she left. I climbed out of bed and stepped on my backpack, and almost fell onto my face. I straightened myself before walking over to the mirror to decide how I wanted to look on The Last Day. I didn’t want to make it too obvious that today was special, so I just decided to wear my hair as I always did: clipped back on one side and wavy. Like every other day, I just put on some concealer to cover up the kidney bean shaped birthmark on my jaw and some mascara to make my eyes look wider and less asian. I put on my obscenely tight jeans, a striped red and white shirt, and my navy blue vans.
I went downstairs to see my dad eating his small bowl of cheerios. He’s trying to ‘stay heart healthy and lose weight’.
“Hey, buttercup! I made you and Todd some porridge. oatmeal, whatever you want to call it. You want brown sugar?” He, like my mom, was somehow already wide awake at 6:25 in the morning.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. I was eating The Last Bowl of Oatmeal when Todd came running downstairs, the buttons on his shirt in the wrong holes.
“Hey Dad! Hey Bethany! Good morning!” Everyone was too damn peppy. Not that they weren’t always this way, but it was annoying me more than usual today. Another reason to leave.
I proceeded to drink The Last Glass of Orange Juice, from a straw because I sucked and didn’t care about saving the planet, eat The Last Banana, and Go Pee The Last Time In The Downstairs Toilet. I snuck up to my room with the pink and green straw and hid it among the 471 other straws I’d sipped orange juice from in the past year and 106 days since I’d been diagnosed. At first, they’d proved as a sort of testament to my ‘strength’ for sticking around for so long, but now I just saw them as proof that I had waited to long. I didn’t want to add another straw to that pile.
My bus came about seven minutes before Todd’s, and although he usually went early with me for who knows what reason, today I left on my own. I took The Last Walk To The Bus Stop.
I stood waiting for about six minutes, and I started to question whether today was really the day. Maybe I should wait a little longer, until after I take the next French test, or until after I get to read the next book by my favorite author, I thought to myself. I started what I suppose could be called bargaining, but then again, my whole life had been a bargain.
If Ellie didn’t win her race yesterday, I’ll wait.
If Jenna breaks up with Eric, I’ll wait.
If Leah doesn’t talk about her ‘big break’, I’ll wait.
If Felicity doesn't get an 100 on her most recent math test, I'll wait.
I then proceeded to legitimately slap myself across the face. Twice, actually, because it wasn't hard enough the first time. I picked up a stick from by my feet and started to jab my stomach with the jagged end. This pain brought me out of my brief funk, and I knew that there was no waiting. Today was the day. Thanks be to God.
I heard the bus coming up the street, dropped the stick, and got ready for The Last Bus Ride.
"Good morning, Elizabeth," my bus driver mumbled as I mounted the Yellow Beast. He'd been calling me that since September. Eight months of bus rides later and I hadn't corrected him once.
I walked to the middle where all the sophomores are supposed to sit and plopped down in my usual seat, alone. At least I’d never have to be the loser who sits by herself again.
Five minutes into the ride and Justin Freemiller, of 86 Huckberry Street, tapped me on the shoulder. I'd been so freaking obsessed with him since like seventh grade, but in the fall I sort of lost interest. I didn't really have the energy to have a crush on anyone anymore.
"Hey Bethany. How's it going?" He asked. For some reason he always tried to talk to me on the bus in the morning, but I never had anything interesting to say to him.
"It's good. How're you?" I continued our pointless conversation. I don't know why he bothered.
"I'm good! Thank God Mrs. Robertson changed the test date because I am not ready, ya know?" he paused and let me nod to agree with him even though I didn't care. "You going to the football game tomorrow?" He sorta blushed as he asked, probably because he would be embarrassed if anyone around saw him talking to me.
"No, probably not. I have a family thing," I responded.
"That's too bad. I would've liked to hear you cheering for us from the stands," he added awkwardly. I laughed a little and then turned away. I didn't want to burden him with pretending to enjoy talking to me anymore.
The rest of the bus ride was uneventful, as usual, until about six minutes and thirty-three seconds before I got to school. I was counting every second seeing as there were very few left. The other Justin on the bus, who sat in front of me, turned around and made eye contact, so I took out my headphones.
“Hey Bethany, do you have an extra pair of headphones I could borrow for the day?”, he asked, smiling as only Justin #2 could. I was about to tell him that I didn’t have another pair, but then I realized that I wouldn’t use them after today, so I took them out of my ears and handed them to him.
“You can have them, actually,” I said while I placed them in his hand.
“Are you sure? I’ll give them back at the end of the day,” he looked confused.
“No, I don’t need them anymore, it’s all good, you have them,” I forced at him. He said thanks and plugged them into his phone. Damn, I was giving away prized possessions now. S*** was getting real.
I got off the bus for The Last Time, and took The Last Walk Through the Entrance to the School.

My locker was on the first floor even though every single one of my classes was on the third, and there were only two other sophomores who had the misfortune of sharing the domain with me. I went and took my chemistry textbook out, and then hauled myself up the two flights of stairs to homeroom.
My girl crush, Susanna Summers, who was perfect in every single way, walked ahead of me. Her flowing blonde hair made mine look dull and dead in comparison, which made sense considering she had so much more to live for. Thirteen people said hi to her until she turned into her classroom, and I got a ‘bonjour’ from my french teacher from freshman year.
Jenna and Eric were standing a little ways down the hall, probably whispering sweet nothings to each other, and I didn’t have the motivation to try to talk to them, so I went on my merry way and sat down at my desk alone. Since I’d sat here yesterday, someone had engraved #YOLO onto the fake wood in an act of fearsome rebellion. I certainly hoped that was true, that you only live once, because I sure as hell didn’t want to come back here.
I was pretending to text Ellie, so my teacher wouldn’t think I was a complete loser, when, speak of the devil, she walked into my homeroom.
“Hey Beth, how’s it going?” she asked while simultaneously swinging a desk chair around to sit and face me. Why she decided to come visit was beyond me considering there were plenty more interesting people in the halls to spend time with.
“It’s going good,” I replied without making complete eye contact.
“You. Me. Felicity. Jenna. Leah. Next weekend. New Nordstrom at the mall. We’re going,” she stated. I nodded, smiled wide for the hell of it, and exclaimed
“Yeah! That’ll be so fun!” just for the hell of it. She looked a little surprised at how enthusiastic I was, but was cut off from saying anything by Mr. Perkins.
“Ellie, you’ve gotta get to you own homeroom now,” he said from his stupid and creaky spinny chair in the corner. I was fairly convinced he knew Ellie’s name and not mine, but that’s what I get for being irrelevant.
She put the chair back where it belonged because she was a good and considerate person, and then jaunted out, waving over her shoulder. Since I had no classes with her, this was probably the last time she’d see me before The End.
“Bye Ellie! Good luck at your race today! You’ll be great!” I called after her, the words slipping out of my mouth like they’d been trapped in there forever, which I guess they had. At least now she’d have at least one good memory of me, even if the rest just included me being an empty, human-shaped box that took up unnecessary space.
I’d tried so hard to make my friends actually care about me last year, and to their credit, they did a pretty good job of trying to include me even though, as Jesus said, I was isolating myself from my friends which leads to increased feeling of loneliness, sadness, and paranoia. She would always say how much the people in my life cared about me, how if I took of my blinders and looked around I would see that they were trying to pull me into their worlds, because they wanted me there. She thought that I had a poor perception of reality, and that the real world around me was filled with loving friends and family who wanted me here with them. She was convinced my life had a purpose. I was not.
As per usual, no one sat next to me in homeroom. I was the weird kid who was between two empty desks, just pretending I didn’t notice or care. At this point, I really didn’t. I rose to say The Last Pledge of Allegiance, and then endured the last four minutes and thirteen seconds of The Last Homeroom.
I tripped on my seat when we were released, and almost wiped out on my ass for the second time in twenty-four hours, but I caught myself on Robbie Iccune’s large torso.
“Sorry, Robbie,” I apologized after I righted myself. He made a half smile/grin/smirk with his face pointed in my general direction but said nothing about my painful humiliation.
I could feel the clock ticking in my heart during first period, and I almost killed the entire school during my second class because I left my bunsen burner running for four minutes with no fire lit. During third period, my teacher explained that Holden’s sadness was caused solely by the death of his little brother, and that death of a family member was the leading cause of depression. And maybe it was, but I had trouble controlling my rage and her inability to comprehend the fact that someone with such a normal, average, and ‘easy’ life could be depressed made me want to run from the classroom. But, like everyday of my life until now, I sat there and dealt with the pain. Twelve hours and I’d never have to deal with it again.
I walked into the lunch room with my brown paper bag that was not actually paper but the reusable plastic that the grocery store charges a dollar for. My acquaintances were sitting at the same table they’d claimed since the first day of freshman year. I would say we claimed the table but honestly I had no authority over anything, not even which white and gray speckled table I would sit at for twenty-three minutes a day.
They were all talking to each other, sitting in the usual seats. Felicity next to Leah next to Leah’s boyfriend next to Jenna’s boyfriend next to Jenna next to Ellie, who had, by some miracle, appeared to lunch instead of disappearing to who-knows-where, next to me and back to Felicity. Felicity and Ellie only carried out conversation with me when Jenna and Leah were occupied with their boy toys. That was fairly frequently, I’ll admit, but even though I didn’t have to sit there talking to no one, I still felt alone.
Ellie spent the entire lunch block telling us about this new diet plan she was on that was going to make her even faster and stronger than she already was. It always pissed me off when people talked about how healthy they ate because it felt like bragging, like, yeah, I buy all my food from whole foods and I’m gluten free and I only eat greek yogurt and let me tell you how healthy I’m pretending to feel. I contemptfully watched her nibble on the celery with some gross smelling bean sprout dip, and once again felt grateful that I didn’t have anything to make my body good for.
The bell that called the end of lunch rang, and we parted ways, all saying
“See you later! Text me!” and
“Good luck on the test! See you tomorrow!” I joined in with my
“Bye guys!” and did not add my signature see you at 8:13 tomorrow. I’d always imagined that saying goodbye to my surrpunders for the last time would be gratifying, but I felt nothing. I was numb at this point, no longer excited but no longer sad. If I were able to be numb forever I might just keep on keeping on, but I knew that the feelings would inevitably come back, and I would have to deal with the knowledge that I could have escaped. Easier to end my life now so I won’t have to endure more days just to do it later. I went upstairs to My Last Class.

As I sat waiting for everyone to arrive at the classroom, I started forcing second thoughts on myself. It was not that I was getting cold feet, but surely I was supposed to start doubting myself at some point. Maybe if my family hated me I’d have a right to be depressed. Maybe if I’d been abused I’d have some grounds for what I was about to do. But I had an averagely good life with and averagely good family and averagely good friends, but I knew that I didn’t deserve a place on the earth, in my family, and around my friend group.
I couldn’t hear my teacher thanks to the jungle of animals roaring on, around, and through my head. I left the classroom in a blurr. I barely acknowledged the sticker and 98 on the top of the test that I prolonged my life to see. I didn’t get any of my textbooks because I didn’t want to be like that kid from the chain email who dropped his stuff and the person who helped him pick it up changed his life and surprise he was going to kill himself but he didn’t. I didn’t want to be saved. I wanted it to be over.
I walked to my bus in a daze and interacted with no one. All I thought was the time is now, over and over in my head. The time is now. THE time is now. The TIME is now. The time IS now. The time is NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW. THE TIME IS NOW.
I was hardly functioning enough to type the code 5779 into the garage pad when I got home.
“MOM DAD TODD ARE YOU HOME IS ANYONE HOME SPEAK NOW OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE!” Since no one responded, I assumed I was all clear. I sat down at the kitchen table with my mom’s piles of recipes I’d hated strewn about, and wrote my second letter.
To Whom This May Concern (namely Mom, Dad, Todd),
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’m sorry for being depressed and making you work too hard. I’m sorry for not being a good enough daughter. I’m sorry for leaving you. I know, deep down, that maybe you wanted me to stay with you a little bit, but it didn’t change the fact that I am not OK. It is not your fault. It is my fault for setting myself up for failure. It is all my fault. I’m sorry. I will miss you. Know that I loved you. Thank you for everything.
I’m Sorry.
Love, Bethany
This letter was also an extremely shitty suicide note, but I was shaking from anticipation. I poured myself a large glass of ice water, ran up to my to get the pills, and came back. I hadn’t given much thought to which room I wanted to die in, but I didn’t really feel like ending it all in my bedroom, so I figured the kitchen was a good as anything.
From what I’d read online, I’d need to swallow all nine of the remaining pills and then block my throat so I couldn’t throw them up. My blood was pulsing through my veins at an alarmingly fast rate already. I took a big gulp of the water and swallowed all the pills at once. At first I felt nothing but a dull sense of satisfaction that I was actually able to do it, that finally I had lived up to the goal I set out to achieve. I placed a cloth on my face and tied it with a hair elastic, then layed down on my back on the sofa. For six minutes, nothing, but then
Shitshitshitshitshit oh my god what have i done this is crazy oh my god i can’t breathe someone help me no make it stop i am ripping of the cloth I am trying to throw it up no why why s*** oh my god stop make it stop no why why did i do this no s*** s*** s*** s*** i can’t breathe i cant see s*** oh my god no no why make it stop i dont want this make it stop please god make it stop mom help me i cant breathe i cant see make it stop i dont want to die make it sto