A friend asked me one day when I came to school with a thin red line across my throat "What the h*** did you do?"
I simply said "I wanted to see what would happen."
Silly girl.
If she had known me better, she would know that if I wanted to die, I already would have.
I would have slit my arm along the veins, tracing the tiny blue rivers through the pale white of my skin.
I would have picked up a gun I don't know how to use and run into the police station screaming my head off until they blew it off for me. Then they would look at my gun and realize that it was empty, and that they had just done me a favor.
Oh no, if I had wanted to die, I would have been dead ages ago. After all, I was born to die.
Aren't we all?