"Lost Soul"

My hands are shaking as I held a blade over my pulse. My palms are sweaty and cold, tears stream from my eyes as the past events in my life unfold before me. I watch my life rewind with emotionless stare as all I feel now is that I am so lost. Hopeless. Sad. Alone.

I could hear my breathing as it comes out fast. I'm scared but I feel like this is the only way to escape. To stop the madness that is creeping on me. The terror that gripped me. I no longer want to live. I cannot see myself walking this earth anymore as life has repaid me nothing but sorrow, pain and endless melancholy. I gave everything into the universe, all the love, joy and hard work that I can do, I gave my life my all, but it failed me. I failed me. I was not designed to be amongst the living. I do not deserve to live anymore. The bubbly, happy girl is gone. All I am is a pathetic lost soul. Hollow and wretched I walk everyday of my life unable to find meaning in what I do. I do not see any reason to live or to do the things I do everyday. I am surrounded by so many people but everyday I feel more and more alone.

Depression kills. I am dead even though I have yet to sink this blade into my skin. Even before it cuts through my veins I am already gone. I exist and yet my heart, my mind and my soul no longer does.

I cannot remember how this started or how I fell into this pit of darkness, all I know is I lost what is left of me and there is no other solution but to end everything. Stop breathing, stop living, give up.

With shaky hands I slowly bring the blade closer to my wrists. Slowly, painfully I slice it through my skin and into my veins. A sudden gush of blood flowed to my arms. The pain is unbearable but it cannot compete to the sense of fulfillment that I felt. I let myself give in to the pain. It resonated through my whole body and being, until we are one. My eyes are beginning to shut as 5 minutes passed. Briefly, I remembered how I came to the decision of ending my life. It is quite funny that I planned all of it in a way any nerdy person would commit suicide. I researched. I considered several methods like hanging myself, drinking pills, OD'ing on some kind of drugs, but, I ultimately ended up with deciding to slit my wrists.

My life is so purposeless and insignificant that I would not want it to end as it is. I wanted drama, emotion, showmanship - I want blood.

As I discovered, the best method of cutting your wrist is to cut vertically. By cutting across your wrist, you run the risk of damaging tendons, causing you to be unable to cut the other arm. The goal to cut vertically is to sever the radial artery in a manner that facilitates rapid blood loss. By cutting along the length of the artery, you'll trigger the body's own defenses – arterial constriction, which will pull the artery open, allowing it to bleed more quickly.Otherwise, it will be a very long and painful method to die.

The depth of the cut should be from ½ to 1 inch deep, and run along with the radial artery. The radial artery supplies the blood to the arm and hands. It is a major artery found in your forearm and to cut it, you must go through the skin and tendons. After that, it seems to take a long, long period to bleed out. And true as it is, I am looking at my slit wrists and seems like forever as I see my blood drip to the water as I lay on the bathtub. I tried to slit my other wrists but my left hand has no strength at all to carry my own hands and make the slit. I lie there helplessly as I wait for myself to bleed to my death.

I never knew that dying could be so hard. That even at the doorstep of death, it still is a gruesome journey to get to that peaceful place.

Depending on how well you have made the cuts, bleeding out could take anywhere from a few minutes to half an hour. You would experience an increased heart rate, a clammy feeling, dizziness, and become pale. This will be followed by a shortness of breath, and when your blood pressure drops far enough, you'll lose consciousness and eventually die.

Thirty minutes have passed and I am bleeding out rapidly, the pain is unbearable but I no longer fight it. I savor it, thinking that this is the last time I will be able to feel pain, sadness, melancholy or anything at all. I am just so eager to find stillness and infinity. I just want to get to that place where suffering is no longer an issue and people can no longer hurt you. This is my revenge for all the pain. Maybe, just maybe when they find me lying lifeless in a tub full of blood they will finally see what they all have done to me and how much I needed people to care. Perhaps, in my death they will feel and experience my life. With me gone the heaviness that I feel in my heart will also be theirs, as they will remember every single minute that they have made me feel unimportant. The weight of their conscience will kill them inside, knowing that they made me grab this razor. They made me slit my wrists and made me watch myself die an agonizing end.

This is the culmination of my journey, the final vow to where I will have the last laugh. I have cheated life. It screwed me over and over again, now I am ending everything on my own terms. On this bathtub, I decided to die because once I thought I was living all the while I was preparing for this moment. This is the time, place and end of me. This is my death.

I was born the youngest out of four siblings. However, I am the bad luck, the misfit, family wrecker. Our mother Lucy had an affair with another man - her boss. I was a fruit of adultery, and because of me, her husband - Brandon Johnson died.

Everybody hated me.

Who would love the product of lust? Of immorality and all that destroys what true love is. I hated my mother for giving birth to me. I just wish she aborted me instead or better yet she remained faithful to her beloved husband and kids. If only she made the right choices I would not have been born into this cruel world. I would not have been contemplating my own death. I wouldn't be in a tub swimming in my own blood.

My siblings Cara the successful heir of her father's winery business, Janet the lucky housewife who is married to a big business tycoon and Matthew the only person who has shown me a bit kindness. Matt was quite a big brother, he is an artist. He is wild and free and I envy him. He is the only one cool with me being part of their "family." While everybody else would wish me dead or shove me in a basement for all eternity. He was there. He took me in as his own sister. I am forever grateful. He is the only one I have closest to family.

My mom, whom should have been my only ally in this cruel life hated me more than I hate her. She despised that I was alive, that I remind her of her dark past. She blames me for everything. As to why her lover left her. How she crumbled and almost died because of heartbreak. She loved the son of a bitch. He was everything she wished for a man. Powerful, handsome and dangerous. Everything that her husband was not. The only reason she kept me alive is her late husband. Due to his inability to leave her and his ego, he had my mother keep me. Even if I was not his he let the world know I was a Johnson. Just because he wants to protect the family's good name.

People say Brandon was kind. He was a man who worked his way up into the winery business and eventually had a big break and became what he was. Johnson Brewery and Winery is one of the biggest in our town. He was respected and everybody looked up to him. However, to me, he was a different man. He treated me as if I do not exist. He looks at me and sees past through me. He sees me but never acknowledges me. To him I was a ghost.

I was ten when he passed away. Everyday, I saw him deteriorate. He stayed for ten years more in a marriage that is already tainted with lies and mistrust. He saw me and everyday it killed him. I am a painful reminder of his inability to make his wife stay.

In the chaos of it all, I was all alone. I sulk at my misfortune having been born in the most despicable manner. Even my own skin crawl at the thought of me. I felt dirty. I learned the truth when I was 10 years old. But even before then I knew there was something different with my family. While most families' youngest child is cuddled, loved and adored, I was treated with much disdain and neglect. The only person who took care of me is Nana Rose. She was my nanny who took care of me as a baby and until now. From her I experienced warmth and love. Looking back, she was more of a mother to me than my own. She was always so busy getting drunk, in fact, on one of her drunk fits, that's the time she told me everything. I remember her exact words until now.

Hannah! Haaaannnnaaaah! she called out to me slurring her words as I went near her she tossled my hair but not on a loving way, she did it while my head went back and forth. I was scared but I tried to get a grip of myself and said "Yes Mom?" in my tiny voice.

She laughed, that crazy shrill drunken laugh and said, "You piece of shit! You ruined my life!" She shouted while pointing fingers at me crying and laughing at the same time. "You should not have been born. You are nothing but bad luck. Did you know I had you with my boss? You are not your father's daughter! You destroyed everything!!!" She shouted as she threw her wine glass at me, missing me by an inch and slamming at the wall. Nana Rose hurriedly run to me and took me and said "Hannah, baby, come with me, mommy is just sad..." But my mom shouted "Take her away Rose! I don't want to see that kid again! She brought me to my room and I realized I was shaking, I was holding back my tears all the while and when Nana Rose led me to my bed I let out a wail and I was crying and crying for God knows how long. While Nana Rose held me until I fell asleep.

After that day, I started to ask questions from Nana Rose and as much as she doesn't want to tell me everything in my early age, she succumbed seeing how determined I was and how my family's relationship with me got worse. She would give me bits and pieces of information and the most she has given me was my real Father's name - Garrett Klutz.

When Matt and me play I would ask him questions and he will tell me, "that's okay kid, it's kinda cool to have you here. I don't really care who your father is." But with a lot of bothering and convincing he taught me to stalk in Google and Facebook when I was 12. That's when my obsession began.

For so many years, I was obsessed with my father, he was at his 50s but he still was handsome. Imagine George Clooney just make him a bit fatter but still fit in a way. That's how devastatingly handsome he was. He was still single based on his Social Media accounts and press releases I see. He was with so many different girls - all young and beautiful, models, famous celebrities. Quite the ladies' man my dad.

Dad? it burns in my mouth when I say it. At first I was in awe at his power and looks. He was a succesful businessman of a tech company that was well known not only here in California but has also gone international penetrating European and Asian countries, he was loaded that's for sure. Sometimes, I wonder if he would have ever wanted me and what would it be like to live with him. It must have been so exciting seeing how he jet sets around the world. That went on until I was 15. Up until I realized he would never want me and he was just some selfish son of a bitch. So what do I do? Matt told me to enjoy life and not bother anymore with my past since I can't do anything about it. So, I relished in our richness and partied like crazy.

At 16, I'm hooked on mollies and pot. I dranked whenever I can. Got VIP status on every clubs eventhough I was underaged. Perks of being a Johnson.

People may look at my life and tell me I'm crazy for not seeing the silver lining of how I was born into a family with fame and money. They would only see how 'lucky' I am for being born with such wealth and get everything I could ever want and need in a snap. And I did get everything I wanted. I reveled in the luxury of the life I have. I was quite the party girl. The 'it' girl if you may call it. I ravished every cent that I could get my hands on to go to clubs, get drunk, drugged and laid. Every night is a party and that is what people only see. The privileged girl who takes what she wants. I really did let my reputation get in the way of what I am truly experiencing. But then, that was how I cope.

The pain right now is so unbearable, I could feel my wrists that I ripped open hurting like a bitch. I could feel the blood rushing fast. I thought this was a dramatic way to die, to make an impression, to convey my hurt and my suffering but right now I only wish I could have chosen a different way to go. Overdosed on some pills maybe? And die in a deep slumber. But no, until the end of my life I failed myself by choosing a gruesome death. As if my life is not enough suffering as it is, I chose to end it in the most painful way possible as if all this pain will atone to the sins of how I was brought into existence. Damn this brain and how damaged I am that every bit of my judgement is clouded. I never was the best person to live if I may say. I always make the worst of decisions anybody could ever make. Give me a sound advise and trust that I will completely disregard it and all the red flags and choose the worst way to do anything. That's just me, a complete chaos of emotions.

As the lights from the overhead lamp of my bathtub gets dimmer, I could no longer feel pain but a wave of peace like I was on heroine. I feel floating, I was lighter and as the lights start to flicker out, I let out a sigh and a smile - remembering my plan and how I will destroy all their lives. This is my end but only the beginning of my revenge. The letters.

I took my last breath and then, darkness.