The Day I Died

by E.B. Black

Sometimes living is harder than dying, but that doesn't mean that being alive isn't worth it.

This place was supposed to be my escape from you.”

I had lived. And living meant that I had tried to kill myself and failed. It wasn’t even a possibility I had considered before now. I’d always known I couldn’t do anything right, but killing myself? I thought I’d at least be able to succeed with that.

Because I was tired of always feeling like such a burden to everyone I cared about.