I couldn't take it anymore: the pain, the hurt and the constant feeling that something could go wrong at any time. So I gave up.

I took my life.

The next morning, the earth still spun, the birds still chirped. The sun rose as it usually does and everything was "normal." Except that I was dead. My mom wasn't awake yet, but I saw her sleeping peacefully. I saw my dad, sun shining on his face as he gets ready for work. I see my brother pressing snooze on his alarm over and over again. Everyone was doing their own thing, getting up for another day, except me.

The day after I killed myself, my mom is making breakfast downstairs. I can smell the egg white omelette that she knows is my favorite and the fluffy waffles for my brother. She comes into my room to find my dog curled up on my lap whimpering quietly, then the whole world came crashing down.

The day after I killed myself, I hiked up the trails to the beautiful rocks overlooking the highway to see that everyone was still going about their day. I could see other kids on the rocks living their lives, laughing with each other, never minding their own problems.

The day after I killed myself, I saw my parents sitting on my empty bed in my empty room comforting each other as they read my note. They read the instructions that I left that started with "Do not to be sad", but that was my only wish that they couldn't make come true.

The day after I killed myself, I can see everyone gathered at my house crying hysterically and asking the question, "Why?" I see my psychiatrist cross out "seems she is doing very well" and put my chart back in its place. I see my friends in disbelief, not sure whether they should take me out of the group chat or delete my number or leave it as is. I can see my best friends calling me in denial that I was gone. I see everyone coming together to tell the jokes that I loved and share memories in-between the cries.

The night after I killed myself, I see my dad coming over with dinner for my brother and I but he forgot that I was dead. He tries to stay strong as he tosses out my supper, but the tears can't stop. I see my dog run to the front door every time a car drives by thinking that it's me. I see my brother texting me asking when I'm coming back from school, but the message doesn't deliver because after I killed myself, my parents shut off my phone because they couldn't bear to hear my voice on the voicemail.

The day after I killed myself, I went to my grave and tried to tell myself, tried to beg myself to not do it. I tried to tell myself that there's so much to live for like the omelette in the morning and the rocks that made all my worries disappear.

The night that I killed myself, I didn't realize that seeing the most important people in my life so torn would hurt me more than anything. The night that I killed myself, I didn't know that my sadness wouldn't go away and that there was no way to reverse it.

The night that I killed myself, I didn't see the pain that it would cause everyone I loved; my friends and family. The night that I killed myself, I was never able to resolve outstanding issues.

The night that I killed myself, I tried to un-kill myself, but I couldn't finish what I started. The night that I killed myself, I wish I had never done it.

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255