I literally want to shout it from the mountain tops. I COMMITTED SUICIDE BITCHES!
But if my parents lied (they won't), I wouldn't care.
I can hear my mom in that whispery voice of hers, telling all of her friends, "Our girl has passed."
Passed. I hate that term.
I'm
dead, yo. Deadity, dead, dead. It's okay to say it.
In my wildest fantasies, I get to watch them for a few weeks after they find out. I want to see how soon they'd laugh and smile again. I bet it would be within 48 hours.
No. In my wildest fantasy, I'd haunt their asses. Turn on faucets for no reason. Blast the TV in the middle of the night. Slap my dad upside the head while he sleeps.
I promise - if the ability to haunt was an option, I'd jump off a bridge tonight
