suppose, a story.

dear universe,

I’m supposed to write a post about mental health awarness… probably writing it to late but wtv. So I’m also supposed to tag two people to do posts as well.



So, I’ve decided to do my post in story form so I’ll name a mental illness then write a short story that puts you in the place of someone with that mental illness.


I rolled over slamming my hand against the broken alarm clock as it rang warning me of the day to come. I glanced at the time 5:30am. Perfect. I rolled out of bed and threw on some exercise shorts and a sweatshirt. Already the worries taunted me.

What if someone was awake and waiting for me to come out so they can tease me some more? What if… Why won’t they just leave me alone? Will try taunt me forever? Is my sweatshirt on right? Does it match these shorts?… Your worthless. You look like crap. I’m worthless. I look like crap.

Ignoring the voices to the best of my ability I slipped down the stairs as quietly as I could. At the bottom I slipped on my sneakers and headed for the door. Outside, at last. I walked across the lawn to the road. As my feet but the pavement I picked up my pace to a jog. The sound vibrated through my whole body. Thump. Thump. Thump. My foot steps sounded like a drumbeat in a to small room. Repeatitive and way to loud. I continued trying to ignore the new set of worries I’m my brain.

Remember the neighbors dog. It bites. Watch out. Everything is to loud. They don’t stop. The voices. They only get louder. To loud. They scream at me. Help. But wait no one cares. Do they.

My pocket vibrates. I reach for my phone. “Leslie” reads the caller ID. Why would she call me now? I answer…


As I sit in my room rocking to the beat of the song playing in my headphones. It soothes me, comforting me. The words allow me to forget some of the pain. Then the song changes.

“To join the black parade.”

Maybe I should join the black parade… I’ve always wanted to… Yes.


I’m sitting again, the same spot but no music to hide in. A weapon sits in my lap waiting to be used. I glanced at the door of my room, locked. The notes on the table. I glance at the clock 3:37am. I smile but not a happy smile. I lift the weapon, every bone in my body aching to pull the trigger. As the gun reaches my temple my phone comes to life. It rings with a deprate hope. I look, tears streaming down my face at the caller ID “Leslie”. Why would she be awake at this time of night and calling me of all poeple. I force my self to lower the gun. Slowly I reach for the phone…


There are so many other mental illness but i chose to of the most important to me.

Be the one person to save someone.

To love someone.

Be there.


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