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"writing": "This story deals with teen suicide, hanging, depression, abandonment, hopelessness, feelings of loneliness and despair. There is nothing sexual in this story. If you do not like or cannot handle any of these topics please leave now or use your blacklist. It is nobody's responsibility but your own to make sure you don't see things you can't handle.\n\nAlone\n\n[i]Anyone who tells you it gets easier is full of shit. It doesn't get easier, it doesn't get better, you just get better at hiding how much it hurts. You get better at masking your pain in front of the people who hurt you, you go about your day like nothing is wrong until you can finally be alone again and just let it all out. Maybe you scream and cry and shake alone in the darkness of your room, maybe you drown out your thoughts with drugs and alcohol, maybe you blast your music so loud your ears bleed just to minimize the chances of a thought occurring and sending you spiraling down again. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. We all have our ways of coping with the pain, whatever it might be. \n\nBeing forgotten is a slow, painful death I wouldn't wish on anybody. I've been beaten, stabbed, abused, I've been hit by a fucking car and had bones broken, none of that pain comes close to being forgotten and left alone by the people you love. It doesn't matter how nice you are, how funny you can be, how good of a listener you are, there's always someone better. There's always going to be someone cooler, funnier, nicer, always someone to take your place, and there's nothing you can do about it. \n\nYou can try to fight to keep your place, but once someone new is already there, it's not worth it anymore. You can be as good a friend as possible, it doesn't matter. You're gone, you're alone. They stop calling you to come hang out, there's someone better than you there now. They barely even think about you anymore, but you're stuck there thinking about them. \n\nHe told me we'd always be friends, we'd always be like brothers. Ever since the day I found him here alone under this stupid fucking tree, we were supposed to be friends. I tried so fucking hard, I did everything I could. Why couldn't you see how hard I tried? Did I even matter at all? Do you even think about me anymore? I don't know, and it doesn't matter anymore. You left me for him and I have nothing left, nobody to turn to, nobody to talk to, so I sit here and I write this stupid fucking note. \n\nI can't even cry anymore. There's no tears left, my eyes have been dried out for weeks. It's been two months since you came to see me, two months since he came along, two months since you threw me away. \n\nYou didn't even say anything. You never said goodbye, you never even had the courtesy to tell me to go fuck myself. What did I do wrong? Why wasn't I enough for you? Why couldn't you just do me the courtesy of killing me yourself?\n\nI hope you never come back here, Terry. I hope you never find me, I hope you never think of me again. As much as you hurt me, I hope you never see me like this. I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I'm sorry I wasn't enough. I'm sorry I couldn't be him. \n\nI can't take it anymore. I barely even think anymore. My brain is just static, just an angry jumbled mess of fucking bees buzzing around drowning everything out. I barely eat, I can barely move anymore. It was hard enough just to bring this stupid fucking rope out here, let alone tie it up. All that's left now is to hope it doesn't break. \n\nAll this pain you caused me, and that's not even the worst part. The worst part is you don't even know. How could you? I could never tell you. I could never tell you how I feel, I could never tell you how much I loved you. I promised myself I'd just keep it to myself and let you be happy, but then he came along and I stopped existing and I can't take it anymore. I should have told you years ago how I felt, I'm sorry. This is my fault. It's all my fault, it's always my fault.\n\nI hope you can be happy with him. I hope he's everything for you I could never be. Take care of yourself, Terry. Despite everything, I'm sorry.[/i]\n\nBlue and red lights flashed through the woods as a young mouse and possum sat together and watched a paramedic cut a small gray body down from a tree, a pair of Mylar balloons tangled on the branches just above him. The mouse's tears soaked through the note in his hand, the ink almost unreadable now as it smeared and washed away. The sound of a walkie talkie nearby caused his ears to twitch towards it. “Victim appears to be a gray squirrel. Two kids on scene found the body, still warm. No info yet.” \n\nThe sound of leaves and twigs crunching closer and closer to the pair caused them to look up, greeted by a paramedic who crouched down in front of them to ask questions. “Did you know him?” the mouse couldn't speak as he sat with his mouth open, twitching as words failed him. He simply nodded his head softly in response. “I'm sorry. I need to ask you a couple questions, okay? Do you think you can answer them for me?” Terry swallowed hard and nodded again, his cheeks soaked with tears. “What's his name?”\n\nThe young rodent fought hard to speak, his voice almost non existent as his words fell from his mouth. “Dexter. I-I never knew his last name.”\n\n“Do you know his family?”\n\n“He doesn't have one. He lives here. Uh, lived here. In the woods.” \n\n“Oh, shit. Do you know how old he is?”\n\n“16. Today's his birthday.”\n\n“Fuck, uh, I'm sorry, kid. I need to take the note. Is- can you hand it to me? I can bring it back to you later, but we need it for records.” The mouse silently held out the tear soaked paper to the paramedic. “Where was it?”\n\n“Taped to his leg”\n\n“I'm sorry. Your parents should be here soon, we'll fill them in on the situation and refer you to a grief counselor. It's not required but...it helps. There's no time limit on it, just think on it. Believe it or not, I've been where you are. It's hard. It's good to not be alone. You two, just, take care of each other.”\n\nThe mouse felt the possum next to him softly wrap his arms around him, feeling him trembling as he fought to not break down. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Terry.” the possum cried out as they both stared at the ground and watched as ants piled onto the surprise 'Happy birthday' cupcake the mouse dropped when he found his best friend's body gently swaying in the wind.",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "This story deals with teen suicide, hanging, depression, abandonment, hopelessness, feelings of loneliness and despair. There is nothing sexual in this story. If you do not like or cannot handle any of these topics please leave now or use your blacklist. It is nobody's responsibility but your own to make sure you don't see things you can't handle.
Alone
Anyone who tells you it gets easier is full of shit. It doesn't get easier, it doesn't get better, you just get better at hiding how much it hurts. You get better at masking your pain in front of the people who hurt you, you go about your day like nothing is wrong until you can finally be alone again and just let it all out. Maybe you scream and cry and shake alone in the darkness of your room, maybe you drown out your thoughts with drugs and alcohol, maybe you blast your music so loud your ears bleed just to minimize the chances of a thought occurring and sending you spiraling down again. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. We all have our ways of coping with the pain, whatever it might be.
Being forgotten is a slow, painful death I wouldn't wish on anybody. I've been beaten, stabbed, abused, I've been hit by a fucking car and had bones broken, none of that pain comes close to being forgotten and left alone by the people you love. It doesn't matter how nice you are, how funny you can be, how good of a listener you are, there's always someone better. There's always going to be someone cooler, funnier, nicer, always someone to take your place, and there's nothing you can do about it.
You can try to fight to keep your place, but once someone new is already there, it's not worth it anymore. You can be as good a friend as possible, it doesn't matter. You're gone, you're alone. They stop calling you to come hang out, there's someone better than you there now. They barely even think about you anymore, but you're stuck there thinking about them.
He told me we'd always be friends, we'd always be like brothers. Ever since the day I found him here alone under this stupid fucking tree, we were supposed to be friends. I tried so fucking hard, I did everything I could. Why couldn't you see how hard I tried? Did I even matter at all? Do you even think about me anymore? I don't know, and it doesn't matter anymore. You left me for him and I have nothing left, nobody to turn to, nobody to talk to, so I sit here and I write this stupid fucking note.
I can't even cry anymore. There's no tears left, my eyes have been dried out for weeks. It's been two months since you came to see me, two months since he came along, two months since you threw me away.
You didn't even say anything. You never said goodbye, you never even had the courtesy to tell me to go fuck myself. What did I do wrong? Why wasn't I enough for you? Why couldn't you just do me the courtesy of killing me yourself?
I hope you never come back here, Terry. I hope you never find me, I hope you never think of me again. As much as you hurt me, I hope you never see me like this. I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I'm sorry I wasn't enough. I'm sorry I couldn't be him.
I can't take it anymore. I barely even think anymore. My brain is just static, just an angry jumbled mess of fucking bees buzzing around drowning everything out. I barely eat, I can barely move anymore. It was hard enough just to bring this stupid fucking rope out here, let alone tie it up. All that's left now is to hope it doesn't break.
All this pain you caused me, and that's not even the worst part. The worst part is you don't even know. How could you? I could never tell you. I could never tell you how I feel, I could never tell you how much I loved you. I promised myself I'd just keep it to myself and let you be happy, but then he came along and I stopped existing and I can't take it anymore. I should have told you years ago how I felt, I'm sorry. This is my fault. It's all my fault, it's always my fault.
I hope you can be happy with him. I hope he's everything for you I could never be. Take care of yourself, Terry. Despite everything, I'm sorry.
Blue and red lights flashed through the woods as a young mouse and possum sat together and watched a paramedic cut a small gray body down from a tree, a pair of Mylar balloons tangled on the branches just above him. The mouse's tears soaked through the note in his hand, the ink almost unreadable now as it smeared and washed away. The sound of a walkie talkie nearby caused his ears to twitch towards it. “Victim appears to be a gray squirrel. Two kids on scene found the body, still warm. No info yet.”
The sound of leaves and twigs crunching closer and closer to the pair caused them to look up, greeted by a paramedic who crouched down in front of them to ask questions. “Did you know him?” the mouse couldn't speak as he sat with his mouth open, twitching as words failed him. He simply nodded his head softly in response. “I'm sorry. I need to ask you a couple questions, okay? Do you think you can answer them for me?” Terry swallowed hard and nodded again, his cheeks soaked with tears. “What's his name?”
The young rodent fought hard to speak, his voice almost non existent as his words fell from his mouth. “Dexter. I-I never knew his last name.”
“Do you know his family?”
“He doesn't have one. He lives here. Uh, lived here. In the woods.”
“Oh, shit. Do you know how old he is?”
“16. Today's his birthday.”
“Fuck, uh, I'm sorry, kid. I need to take the note. Is- can you hand it to me? I can bring it back to you later, but we need it for records.” The mouse silently held out the tear soaked paper to the paramedic. “Where was it?”
“Taped to his leg”
“I'm sorry. Your parents should be here soon, we'll fill them in on the situation and refer you to a grief counselor. It's not required but...it helps. There's no time limit on it, just think on it. Believe it or not, I've been where you are. It's hard. It's good to not be alone. You two, just, take care of each other.”
The mouse felt the possum next to him softly wrap his arms around him, feeling him trembling as he fought to not break down. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Terry.” the possum cried out as they both stared at the ground and watched as ants piled onto the surprise 'Happy birthday' cupcake the mouse dropped when he found his best friend's body gently swaying in the wind.",
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"title": "Alone",
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