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Suicide
I want to die. Plain and simple. I just don't care anymore. All my life I've been told that people will only accept the best from me. And so, I have given them my best. But my best is not perfect. I am not some amazing machine that can do it all. I know those who are, but I am not among their numbers. But, people always want me to be the best. I have to make the grade- literally. Straight A's in honors and advanced courses- that's the least they will accept. If not, my death is imminent. And of course, a perfect 2400 on the accursed SAT. That will never happen. I'll be surprised if I even crack 2000. I may be somewhat bright, but I am not perfect. Unfortunately, there is only room in this world for perfection, and I am about as far away as it is possible to be. So, I have given up. I wish I was never born, never alive nor sentient to face such times. I slave away in educational facilities to be able to attend higher learning facilities, where I will again spend many sleepless nights trying to attain that ever-sought perfection. And if by some miracle I do, I will sped the rest of my life, slogging away trying to earn a living. If it is so hard to live, and so easy to just give up and die, why shouldn't I? The shrink would tell me to find something to live for. I have so much to live for, but all of them require me to slave my life away trying to be perfect. Nothing less than perfection will be accepted. I can't simply do well and be well off. No, I am required to be perfect. I am not. No human is. I may well have things to live for, but to me, my life means close to nothing. And besides, those things that I may live for do not live for me. They will not care if I am gone. I want to die. But I will not. It is not that I cannot: these frail human bodies are so easy to kill, so easy to shock into the cesasion of function. I will not. For dying, it is said, is not only the easy, cowardly way out, it will also mean a lost chance. So many have slaved for my existence, and dying will mean I will never repay that debt. So I linger on, forced to endure the demand for the best, knowing I will never fulfill it, just so, maybe thirty, forty years from now, I may die knowing I owed it to no one but myself.
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