These are the text only pages from A Story To Share.Com, true stories of heartache and love. If you have been referred here by a search engine then click at the very bottom of the page to read hundreds of true stories of heartache and love.

      Dying Slowly, On My Own...


On January 11th 2011, I became so overwhelmed by my life, and could no longer handle it. I felt as if I was dying slowly, on my own, and there was nothing I could do. I decided to let death have me, I decided to end my life. I remember the note that I left that night:

ďIím sorry,

If you are reading this, I just canít do it anymore. Iíve been unhappy for so long, and it seems like no matter what happens nothing will ever change. I feel so, so alone, like nobody is there, even though I know everyone is right there with me. I feel like Iím always in the way, the cause for every disaster. Sometimes I feel like everything would be so much better if I just werenít around. I have struggled with my life for as long as I can remember, and as time goes by I feel like everything just keeps getting worse. This life just wasnít made for me. I realized a long time ago that I will never be happy and I will never be accepted. Every single day I walk around with such hurt in my heart, a feeling nobody deserves to feel. My emotions feel like theyíve already killed themselves because I barely feel anything anymore. I donít want to be everybodyís joke anymore and I donít want to be my own embarrassment any longer. Today I decided to end my life, I feel like Iíve been waiting to do this for years. Now all my sadness can end. Iím sorry for anything, and I thank you for everything.

I Love you all,


Here is my storyÖ

After my father passed away, my uncle began violating me for years. I felt like I was even sicker than him because part of me may have even enjoyed it. Even before this had started, I always knew I liked boys. After a while he left, I never knew why, but I later on found out that I wasnít the only one. Life went on, not easy, but it went on. I faked a smile for anything, just so people would think I was happy. I would see men, even the ones in my own family, and wonder if they would ever do to me what my uncle did. I became scared of everyone around me, of everything around me.

I was in the 5th grade when I first thought of suicide. What it would be like for everything to just stop. Thatís also the same year I became sure that girls were not of my interest. I remember earlier, when my mother entered me in for therapy, she must have thought I was a retard, or something. Iím sure she still does because she still calls me it. I told my counselor so much, that I had no friends, I donít like my family, and I wish I could move far away by myself. Yet she saw nothing, what a stupid woman she mustíve been to even think that everything was okay with me.

Later on, my mother decided she was going to move us to North Carolina because she thought she was in love. I cried my eyes out that day, mostly because I didnít want to leave my aunt. I used to think she was protecting me with the things she would tell me. As my sense grew, I realized she only helped dig deeper into my own self hatred.

Living in North Carolina is when it all hit hard. I had no one, I felt so alone and scared. I didnít even have a clue what I was scared of, but with the events that had happened in my life already, and I was only in the 6th grade. I knew to be scared for far more worse to come.

I finished the 7th grade pretty well. I made decent grades, even made a few acquaintances. It seemed like everything was starting to look up. Well, I must have looked up too far and missed a step or two because before I knew it my life was only getting worse.

After the 7th grade, while visiting family in New York, another uncle had violated me yet again. My family sat watching a movie while I was in the room right next to them being forced to suck him off. I hit puberty soon after that, I was hindered by the haunting thoughts of that night.

8th grade came, as I remember it, the worst year of my life. At that point, I knew that I only wanted boys. I felt so disgusted with myself, thinking to myself, after everything Iíve been through, I must be one sick son of a bitch to want that again. That was the highest point of my self-hate, or so I thought at the time.

From that point on the only emotion I felt was hate, and the only person I felt it for was myself. When I started high school, I didnít expect much of it. After everything I had experienced, I wouldíve felt lucky if I fell off a bridge. My suicidal thoughts deepened to the point where I was slicing my thighs almost daily.

As high school went on, so did the hate for myself, and all the names my mother would call me never really helped much either. I had soon met a guy online, he looked like he had just escaped from prison for murder. I was only hoping he would kill again because I told him to pick me up and take me wherever. At this point I didnít care what happened to me, I almost wished he would kill me. Take me anywhere, because I just didnít want to be where I was. My mother saw me leaving with him and stopped everything. She saved my life, but at the time in my eyes, she ruined everything.

After that life got very bad, very fast. I felt like everything was going downhill, and all I could do is fall with it all. I was scrutinized for my decision, and judged cruelly on who they knew I was. At that time I came to realization that as dreadful as my life is, I need to make it work. My mother decided to move us back to New Jersey. I thought that being around family again would help. It did, for a little while. Soon I realized I was only being judged by even more eyes.

I tried and failed several times to find happiness. I would try to fight my thoughts, but I would always relapse back into depression. One day I tried to runaway, I walked for a bit, I soon became aware that I had nowhere to go. Once again, I was scared, sad, and alone, with nowhere to go. That started to seem like my life story.

I had finished high school, I had made friends, and did very well. I didnít know what I was feeling because I had never felt it before, but I felt good. I felt good about everything and where I was. That feeling soon left. The pressure of life triggered my depression once more. I became unhappy all over again, but this was a new level of unhappy. I tried to make an escape plan to runaway once more, but I had to forget about it because once again, I had nowhere to go.

I continued my life, I was never happy with it, but I continued. This is when I became so unhappy that I didnít even realize I was unhappy. I just took life as it came, feeling no emotion what so ever. Everything seemed so bland, like there was no point to anything, but I had to do it anyway. I began finding ways to ease my unhappiness, almost like my drug to take me away for a bit. I began taking things from stores, ďshoplifting.Ē It made gave me a rush and soon after that rush, I felt at ease. I soon got caught and they gave me a fine, which I knew my mother would have to pay.

This is not the reason that sparked my decision to end my life, but almost like the cherry on top. It made me think that everything really isnít going to get any better. At 10:30 pm, I decided to drive to my hometown, and jump in front of a train. I died, I canít tell you what happened after that, but I know that I feel like Iíve been dying quietly on the inside all along.


        | report story |
| comment on story |

| Love Stories | Heartache Stories | Love Quotes | Story Archive | Send Story | Message Board | Webmasters | Contact/About | Text Only | SiteMap

| Add to Yahoo | Add to Google | Add to MSN | rss feed | add to google toolbar Add Newstories to Google Toolbar |