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Description
I guess I’m not really writing this for you. I’m more writing this for me. As a way of putting my own mind to rest before I go on to figure out that great mystery no one can solve.
See, I would be writing this to you, if you actually cared about me in the first place. I mean, honestly, why would you write a letter to someone who never cared about you? Maybe I’m writing this to put my parents’ minds to rest, to let them know it’s not their fault. Or maybe I’m writing it to entertain the police who find me. I don’t really have anyone to say goodbye to, so I guess it doesn’t matter much why I write this.
I guess that’s why I started cutting. I just felt so alone in the world, felt like no one would care what I did anyway, felt like I had to express myself somehow, and since no one listened to me, cutting was my last option, so I went about cutting my wrists and just watching myself bleed. Oh don’t cringe that way. I know you are. You don’t care enough to cringe at the thought of me hurting myself. You’ve never cared.
See, I wasn’t originally intending to do this. I always thought I was too scared to die, too scared of the unknown. That’s why I cut myself in the first place, it was a way of preventing me from dying. I wasn’t doing it for attention, like most people think. I wasn’t doing it to feel “alive”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. I was doing it because I had no one to talk to. No one to comfort me when I felt alone, no one to explain to me that everyone gets depressed, no one around to eat lunch with everyday, no one to hold me as I cried so hard that I nearly threw up. Just... no one. I spent my days all by myself. I got up by myself, ate all my meals by myself, went to school by myself, and I sat in all of my classes, surrounded by about thirty other people, and yet I was totally alone. I don’t think any of my classmates even know my name. I’m just that girl that sits over there, says some quirky things once in a while, but doesn’t talk to anyone.
Maybe that’s what gave me the courage to finally die. No one ever said hello to me, no one even ever smiled at me, so that means no one will miss me, right?
Maybe that’s why I’m writing this. Maybe someone will read this and realize that the quirky girl that sits in the corner needs someone to talk to too, maybe someone will get up the courage to just smile at some random person in the hallway, maybe someone will be brave enough to give a hug to the person they see trying to hide their tears behind a book or their hair.
Maybe someday there won’t be as many people like me. Maybe someday there will be less of those who spend their days all alone, and more people who have friends. Maybe someday you’ll realize that there are things that you can do to help those around you, all it takes is for you to be a little selfless for just a moment, be just a little more open minded, and just take out all of the thoughts in your head that are judging those who hurt themselves. They’re just like you. They have bodies just like you, they have hair, eyes, a nose, a mouth, and feelings just like you. I have feelings just like you. And all we need is for you to take just one moment, just to say hello, just to complement something about us, just something small.
Unfortunately, I know that most of you won’t do that. At least, I know you won’t while I’m still here. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this. Maybe I wanted to say something before I left that would change the life of someone somewhere.
So... since you won’t miss me, since you won’t remember me, I guess I just want you to remember those other quirky kids you see. I want you to make sure that they know that there is someone who cares about them. Because that could be what saves them from becoming like me.
I guess I’m done now, I’ve got nothing more to say. So, goodbye and good luck to those brave souls who try to make a difference. Thank you, from every quirky kid.

Description
I guess I’m not really writing this for you. I’m more writing this for me. As a way of putting my own mind to rest before I go on to figure out that great mystery no one can solve.
See, I would be writing this to you, if you actually cared about me in the first place. I mean, honestly, why would you write a letter to someone who never cared about you? Maybe I’m writing this to put my parents’ minds to rest, to let them know it’s not their fault. Or maybe I’m writing it to entertain the police who find me. I don’t really have anyone to say goodbye to, so I guess it doesn’t matter much why I write this.
I guess that’s why I started cutting. I just felt so alone in the world, felt like no one would care what I did anyway, felt like I had to express myself somehow, and since no one listened to me, cutting was my last option, so I went about cutting my wrists and just watching myself bleed. Oh don’t cringe that way. I know you are. You don’t care enough to cringe at the thought of me hurting myself. You’ve never cared.
See, I wasn’t originally intending to do this. I always thought I was too scared to die, too scared of the unknown. That’s why I cut myself in the first place, it was a way of preventing me from dying. I wasn’t doing it for attention, like most people think. I wasn’t doing it to feel “alive”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. I was doing it because I had no one to talk to. No one to comfort me when I felt alone, no one to explain to me that everyone gets depressed, no one around to eat lunch with everyday, no one to hold me as I cried so hard that I nearly threw up. Just... no one. I spent my days all by myself. I got up by myself, ate all my meals by myself, went to school by myself, and I sat in all of my classes, surrounded by about thirty other people, and yet I was totally alone. I don’t think any of my classmates even know my name. I’m just that girl that sits over there, says some quirky things once in a while, but doesn’t talk to anyone.
Maybe that’s what gave me the courage to finally die. No one ever said hello to me, no one even ever smiled at me, so that means no one will miss me, right?
Maybe that’s why I’m writing this. Maybe someone will read this and realize that the quirky girl that sits in the corner needs someone to talk to too, maybe someone will get up the courage to just smile at some random person in the hallway, maybe someone will be brave enough to give a hug to the person they see trying to hide their tears behind a book or their hair.
Maybe someday there won’t be as many people like me. Maybe someday there will be less of those who spend their days all alone, and more people who have friends. Maybe someday you’ll realize that there are things that you can do to help those around you, all it takes is for you to be a little selfless for just a moment, be just a little more open minded, and just take out all of the thoughts in your head that are judging those who hurt themselves. They’re just like you. They have bodies just like you, they have hair, eyes, a nose, a mouth, and feelings just like you. I have feelings just like you. And all we need is for you to take just one moment, just to say hello, just to complement something about us, just something small.
Unfortunately, I know that most of you won’t do that. At least, I know you won’t while I’m still here. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this. Maybe I wanted to say something before I left that would change the life of someone somewhere.
So... since you won’t miss me, since you won’t remember me, I guess I just want you to remember those other quirky kids you see. I want you to make sure that they know that there is someone who cares about them. Because that could be what saves them from becoming like me.
I guess I’m done now, I’ve got nothing more to say. So, goodbye and good luck to those brave souls who try to make a difference. Thank you, from every quirky kid.