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About a month ago, I decided to leave everything. Not in a metaphorical way, I had given up on suicide and realized, that suicide was just another form of starting over. So, that's what I concluded: Suicide is starting over. But then I happened upon some new knowledge: If suicide was really starting over, than maybethat was all I wanted. So, I gathered my life-savings and spent money for a one way ticket to New Jersey. I figured from my memories, this was as good a place as any. I knew a few people here I could stay with and had a bigger oppertunity of doing what I had always dreamed of. Being able to do music. I let my friends know, and decided finally, if things didn't change, then on Saturday, October 15, I would be gone.
Saturday came, the car pulled up and I left at 5:30 pm for the airport. I got on the plane and left by 6:30. It took 8-10 hours, which I slept through for the most part. All I wanted were things to change. When I landed, I met up with Rick and Kelly and they took me back to their house. I got to go exploring throughout Newark, finding similar things as I would back home, including but not limited to a Starbucks on the corner.
On Sunday night, I decided to at least call my older sister to let her know where I was and that I was alright. She let me talk to her son (my baby nephew) Ashton and his older brother, Daniel. I was fine talking to Daniel, but it was when I got to Ashton, that I started crying as hard as he was. He's 3 and the only thing he could question me with was worse than if I had called my mother and let her know. "Laney, where are you? Where are you? I miss you. I miss you so much..." So I finally lost it and hung up after promising I would come home. I originally thought of New Jersey because I was in Newark at the moment and decided #1, if I was bored enough, I could always go to New York; and #2, I wanted to go eventually to the School of Visual Arts.
But I found myself, wasting the rest of my money, buying a plane ticket home.
I came back yesterday at 11 am. I let my mom and dad know I was home. When I called my mom, she said "Oh. Well, you can walk your happy (butt) home and you have an appointment with a psychiatrist. Bye." And then she hung up. I came to school today and found out, my best friends hadn't even looked for me. The only person who did, was a boy I barely know named Wayde. And that was because he's my guitarist. I don't know if it was just for that reason, or what though. But he was the only one who actually called around asking for me. One of my friends jokingly said "Jeez. Hate to think of what would've happened if it was your funeral."
...Yeah. I'd hate to think if it was my funeral, too.
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