Everyday is a living hell for me, and today was no different. I went to school, and I wish I had not. My peers were all in a bad mood, and decided to take it all out on me.
�Hey Kamaria, eat much you fat lard?� a boy in my school said. He and his gang laughed and one girl pressed me up against a locker. She then shoved a cupcake into my mouth and said, �Your fat needs to eat too!� I choked on it and spit it out into a nearby trashcan. I held my rage inside of me and went on my way to class.
�Kamaria Amadi, you�re late! Go to your seat before I give you a detention!� growled my math teacher, Miss O�Mara. I went to my chair and sat down quickly. Someone threw a spitball at me; it bounced off my cheek onto my desk. I flicked it off and then Miss O�Mara yelled, �Kamaria! What has gotten into you? Don�t throw anything in my room ever again!� I glared at Miss O�Mara and went on copying down notes on some math method, FOIL. I thought that was the thing you put in your hair when you highlight it, or the stuff that you put on your head as so the aliens cannot read your brain. What do I know? Obviously nothing, apparently FOIL is some math term. The second the bell rang, I sprang up to run out of class, only for Miss O�Mara to call me to her desk.
�What has been going on, Kamaria? Lately you have been very disruptive, and I have noticed you do not socialize with anyone or anything. Is there something you need to talk about?�
�I�m fine,� I said monotonously.
Miss O�Mara looked hesitant but replied, �Okay, but if there is anything you need to talk about, I�m here for you.� I darted out of the room and in a matter of seconds; my face collided with the floor. Everyone laughed and stared as I got back to my feet. I fixed my hair and went on walking to my English class.
�Okay class, today we will be writing a poem. You may write about anything that you desire. There are no limits, no boundaries in poetry. There is no right or wrong, so let�s get those thoughts and feelings onto your papers!� said my English teacher.
There�s a chill in the air
No time to spare
Can hardly bare
That you pretend you care.
You think you are cool
But are just a fool
My tears a pool
Because you�re cruel.
I�m done with you
Too bad for you
I hate you
And your friends too.
Don�t talk back to me
You made my life hell
And deserve to suffer
So goodbye, and goodnight.
I turned in my paper as the lunch bell rang. My English teacher looked at my poem and then back at me as I walked out the door and towards the school caf�. I found an empty table and sat. I took my lunch out of my book bag and took a bite out of my tuna sandwich. Meanwhile, some girl went over and sat with me.
�Hey Kamaria, I�m sorry that I have been so mean to you in the past! I was such a terrible person. �
�I cannot believe you have the courage to actually talk to me after all those little stunts you pulled on me, but thank you. It means a lot to me.�
�Here, have some lemonade� The girl opened the lemonade, and gave it to me, just not in the way you may expect. She dumped the whole contents in the bottle onto my head. The juice splattered onto my new shirt, hair, lunch, and my face.
�I cannot believe you actually thought I was sorry for what I did to you! I have no sympathy for trash like you. I have always hated you and always will. You are a dirty little bitch. I hate you!� Tears escaped from my eyes as I got up to leave the caf�, �That�s right, go cry home to your mother�oh wait! You don�t have a mother!�
I could not handle it; this was too much for me. I fled. Every day of my life, I am ridiculed in one way or another, and all by my peers. I have no one to talk to about my troubles. Even if I did, they would not comprehend what I would tell them. I had this day in plan for a long time; I knew what I had to do. The only setback is that I had expected to go through a full school day. I figured this also worked.
As I went out the door, I heard Miss O�Mara calling me. �Kamaria Amadi! Come back here this instant!� I started to run. Her voice became distant but I could make out her saying, �Kamaria! Please come back! It will be okay, I promise, just please come back!� No, it would never be all right. That woman does not know anything about me, and never will.
I kept running until I could run no longer. I collapsed, gasping for air. I laid there for a few minutes to catch my breath, and got up. I started walking towards my home. Cars sped down the road, and some people glanced at me for seconds at a time, not realizing that this would be the last time they would see me alive.
About an hour later, I finally reached my house. I walked into the house and my father sprang up from the sofa and screamed, �What the hell are you doing home? You are not supposed to be home for another four hours! You are such a stupid, fat, ugly piece of crap that I wish was never born!� I could smell Bacardi 151 Proof, his favorite alcoholic drink, on his breath.
�I hate you! You are such a--" I did not have time to get out the rest before my father pounded his fist onto my cheek. I could taste blood in my mouth, but did not care. I went to hit him back but he forced me down, holding both my arms in one of his hands. The sleeves of my shirt rode up and he saw my scars. �What the hell is this? You dirty little woman! No wonder your mother didn�t want you!� He dug his fingernails into my cuts so fresh blood spurted out of my arm. I screamed in pain, so he dug into my flesh even more. �You get what you deserve,� he said. �Now go to your room!� He let go of me and I darted to my room, with my blood oozing onto the carpet.
I locked my door and searched for my razor and bottle of pills. After rummaging through my possessions for a few minutes, I finally found them. They were right next to my diary. I also got that out and threw it onto my bed. I could hear my father screaming through the other end of the door. My mother must have come home, I could hear her saying, �Lois, have you been drinking again?�
�Why do you care?�
�Drinking makes you violent. You�re not only hurting yourself, you�re hurting your daughter, and me!�
�Fine, be that way!� I opened my door just in time to see my mother blown into oblivion from the gun in my fathers� hands.
�MOM!� I screamed. My father pointed the gun and said, �You stay out of this, freak!� He then pointed the gun to his own head and his blood was suddenly splattered onto the walls, ceiling, and even my dearest mother. I didn�t know what to do, so I ran to my room and locked it. I then sat on the floor and picked up my divine razor. I engraved the word, �hate� onto my right arm and then cut right along the vein on each of my wrists. I then opened the full bottle of pills and popped them into my mouth two at a time.
I hate everything about me. I hate my mind, I hate my face, I hate my body, and I even hate my hair. Nothing ever goes right. Today was just a small fraction of what goes on in my life. I have no friends, my family hates me, and I have nowhere to go. I am lost in this labyrinth called life and have come to a dead end. There is no escape. I cannot take this any longer. Why am I not dead yet? Surely even if the pills have not taken complete effect yet, I have lost enough blood to become unconscious by now. I should be dead, what did I do wrong? Am I so pathetic that I cannot even kill myself? It figures, nothing ever works out the way I want it to, not even my suicide. My arms burn and the blood is going everywhere.
I am too weak to stand, yet I can still write. I think the blood loss and pills are suddenly taking effect. It is getting very foggy� Finally, I get something I have been wanting all of my life: my beautiful suicide. As for all of you who may read this after my demise, it is your�entire�fault�
Hours later, Kamaria was found on her floor, diary open and blood all around her. Her lips were blue and eyes were bulging out of their sockets. In cleaning up the blood from her arms, the mortician found many cuts and found the word �hate� carved onto her skin. They also found bruises all over her body suggesting of child abuse. Kamaria Amadi deserved to live.
Questions, comments concerns? Email: [email protected]
