The Ending to a New Beginning

You have been depressed for the past six years. You wake up everyday, with the same empty feeling, the same voice telling you that you are worthless, and that the world would be better off without you in it. But, you don’t let other see it; instead you wear a fake smile, and laugh at things that they laugh at, you even attempt to mimic their behaviour when you’re alone, hoping that it will make you feel better. But, you know that it won’t work. Just like the medications, and the therapies, and the self-help pamphlets. The truth is that you know t

he little voice in your head is right. You are  worthless, and the world would  be better if you weren’t on it anymore.



Finally, you break completely, and purchase a pistol. It’s nice, smooth, shiny, and fits well in your hand. Almost like it is supposed to be there, like it was

always  supposed to be there. You tell the thug selling it to you that it’s perfect, and hand him the $300 for it. You walk home with it in your coat pocket, but you can’t help fingering it.

So, you walk down the streets with you hand on the nice, little pistol, and you keep slipping your finger around the trigger. It seems to conform to your finger, creating a perfect hold.

<span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">You walk up to your house, and your neighbor stops you and asks you if you’re okay. You grin at her, and tell her that you have never felt better, and chuckle. Your neighbor looks at you, worried, and they disappear into their house. You open your door, and step inside, dead bolting the door so no one can stop your plan. You walk to your dining room, and pull out a chair from the table, and sit down. You pull out your prized little pistol, and pull back the slide, cocking the gun. You hear the bullet slide into the barrel, and you smile. You raise your hand to your head, but it’s shaky from the adrenaline that is pumping through your veins. But, you don’t care. You place the barrel against your scalp, to steady the gun, and provide a clear pathway to your brain. You grip the trigger, ready to end it all, and gently squeeze. You take a deep breath, and squeeze as hard as you can. You can hear a loud <span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-style:italic;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">BOOM! <span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">, and then you can only hear ringing. Your vision goes black almost instantaneously, and you feel the pistol fall.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:'TimesNewRoman';font-size:16px;white-space:pre-wrap;line-height:22px;">You wake up with a start. You can’t remember much about your dream, but you know that your ears are still ringing. You step out of bed, and look into the closest mirror. You don’t notice anything wrong, but you know that you feel different. You think about it, but you can’t notice what is different. It was something so subtle, yet impacted you in such a large way. You forget about it, and take a shower. As you do so, you realize what is different. You realize that you no longer feel empty inside. You feel like you actually have a purpose in life, and that your life has meaning, even if it only means something to you. You smile, and continue on with your day.

This is my first attempt at a creepypasta, so be gentle, please.