Narrative-Assisted Suicide

You've Got A Friend In Me Another boring night, about 3 weeks into summer break following the end of my 6th grade year, sitting on my bed and gazing at my laptop screen. I was scrolling through my feed on Quotev.com looking to see if any of my friends had decided to get online, when I seen the little red '1' pop up on the top right corner of my account. I clicked on it, expecting it to just be a notification telling me that someone 'liked' one of my recent activities, which is kind of like a post or a status update. But I was wrong. Someone had left me a private message, but it was not from a username automatically I recognized. Nevertheless, it was from one of my followers. I clicked on the little yellow bar with the notification written …show more content…
"I'm having so much trouble with myself and everything going on. It's been happening for such a long time and I just want to give up. I'm not sure I can put up with all of this for much longer." I was pretty sure I knew what he meant, but I wanted to make sure I was hopefully wrong. "What do you mean by give up...?" "I don't want to say it..." Suicide. Unfortunately, I was right. "Look, I'm really sorry that all this stress is being put on you. I'm not going to be cliche and say I know how you feel, because I don't. I'm not you and I don't know what your situation is, but I do know that ending it the way you are thinking of isn't going to accomplish anything. Trust me. Doing that won't take away your pain, it will only take it and give it to everyone who cares about you." I clicked the send button and took a deep breath. About 20 seconds later, I received a simple yet sorrowful reply. "It wouldn't matter. Nobody cares about me. I don't have anyone." "You must have at least one friend. What about your parents?" "They honestly don't care... and I don't have any friends. None." "Well, do you want friends?" I felt a sense of warmth wash over myself as I …show more content…
From that point into the conversation we talked about everything and anything. From music to movies, from food to hobbies, from our histories to personal preferences and everything in between. Our conversation would turn from silly to philosophical within minutes, and we talked about topics and things that you normally wouldn't think a 6th and 7th grader would talk about, let alone comprehend enough to carry on a conversation about those subjects. I looked up at the clock to check the time. It was a quarter until four A.M. But, it was summer vacation, and my parents didn't necessarily concern themselves with a curfew for me during this time of year. But I was feeling drowsy and decided it was probably best if I get some