inspired to kill

I think the world is still somehow beautiful even if I feel no joy at being alive within it. I woke up to a slightly different atmosphere. Gray walls and broken ceiling. I was lying in a bed. A hospital bed. I looked around; my doctor with white clothes and coral red hair stared at me. "Ju-rain, are you feeling better?" I looked away confused. Was this all just a nightmare; could it be me hallucinating again? I closed my eyes. "What?" I asked anxiously. The tears of my eyes watered my heart, but failed to evoke a response from the barren grounds of what beated in me. "You were unconscious for a month because," he looked at the screen next to me whilst holding a paper in his hands. "You almost died in a car crash; the reason is still unclear, but you picked up a lot of damage to your..." he cleared his throat, then added, "But everything should be written on the the paper." I did not follow a word he said. I wiped my eyes. Maybe it is just a nightmare or it is just a dream. I pictured a month ago; it cannot be a dream. As I layed my head on the soft pillow under my head my tears softened my cheeks. "I am sorry Ju-Rain, it is never easy to hear the truth." He said deeply, but painless. He stood near my bed, placing the note on the table next to me. "I want to know if I am dying?" I was slightly prepared by the news I was going to get. "Y- Yes." My pitch black hair spread across the pink pillow case. My life sucks sometimes. My life earlier was something I have always enjoyed, until my father decided that leaving us was one of the most best idea of his life. Growing up I was the worst years of my life. Of course, I had a brother Nick, he was older than me by six years, and me, I was in grade ten. Barely even sixteen yet. My high school years was the biggest challenge in my life, since I did not have friends. People are the strangest creatures, my life science teacher used to say in the beginning of my grade ten year. Nothing but fear struck me when my mom and my aunt used to fight over my father's abusive ways towards my mother, nevermind that. When they fought, it was not cruel words. My mother used physical ways to beat my aunt. My aunt was one of the biggest role models in my life. She played piano when I was really depressed; her wild soul was deranged at some ways, but to my point of view she was one of those people who never gave up on me. Until she left to Cape Town for her job interview; she was told it would be nine to twenty months and of course I could not wait that long. I then decided to join a book club weeks after then found my first friend, Jamie, who was also in love with books. She always told me I was more crazy in the library. Weird. She was my best friend since the start of grade ten, till she introduced me to her other popular group; I was invited to a party. After that I had a fight with Jamie. She just did not understand how much she hurt me that night... And now? The fact that I was dying was kind of a wish come true, but it could not get any more worse than it already is. My family was never the type of people to actually care about anyone's feelings. My mother never had time for me, because most of her free time she spend in her room dark room writing things down or just tired and slept her problems away. I could not seem to know why; I did not know why she became so distant towards me. I never understood my Mom's feelings and she never noticed mine. However, after the divorce my Mom was a wreck. She popped pills and drank herself dizzy. Not to imagine how awful she might feel to know that I had a car accident, but I hardly believe that she even cares enough to even come and see me in the hospital. My brother, he was one of the only people in my family who actually took care of me since my Mom was too busy in her room. I was always told it was none of my business, but the curiosity was always burning inside me to know why my family had so many hidden lives. But I also had a secret life, although I was always pretending to be totally fine and deep down I always knew I had more problems that it made it really hard to let happiness slide into my life. I guess something is for sure, because no one can be both happy and sad. Either stick with being happy or live with sadness. I was never taught how to choose my own life choices, so I guess life was playing me and just thought that I had to be sad. All this trauma was so much - which I never understood- until I eyed the paper. Maybe, just maybe, I would understand all this stupidity about life and why it made its way and chosen my life to fade away as stars did each morning, but my life would not fade and come back. It will just disappear and die. I do not understand how I can smile all day long, but cry myself to sleep at night. How pictures change, but the people in them never do. How your best friend can become your worst enemy and how forever turns in a short few months that people would do anything to get it back. How people make promises knowing how common it is for promises to be broken. How people can erase you from their lives just because it's easier than working things out. Though my sanity left when I was twelve and my heart broken beyond repair. Even in my weakest days I got stronger. I mostly felt anxious, isolated and overwhelmed by this trauma is inside my mind and everything is too much for me to face alone, although I do not want to tell anyone because I am a burden to people. Sometimes people do not change, but it is not our fault.