Life . . . What is it?
Your born kicking and screaming into a world that might not always accept you.
Icolation confinds me to my own persoanal buble.
What is the purpose of life?
Does anyone truly know?
What are you supposed to do with the time given to you?
What if the time isnt enough?
Its a constant ticking at the back of my mind.
You could die today… One second walking down the street, next? Hit by a car, lying bloody on the side walk. People running and crying, friends you never had saying, “She was so young…”
Those are my constant thoughts.
I dont know if anyone else shares them, and that scares me.
I’m I truely and uttery alone in this world of millions?
I’m not going to say I was born depressed.
I was born a happy baby, surrounded by a large loving family that greeted me with everything I ever wanted and asked for.
But in this past year, I started High school, and it shocked me.
So many people… could they think that I think?
I have atempted suicide before, a very lame attept of putting a close peg on my nose and tapeing my mouth and hands. I panicked and ripped knocked the close peg off.
The only things stopping me from suicide, is the constant fear of the un-known. What is after death?
I am not religious, but I belive there is a supreme being, I think…
What if you die and nothing happens, how can one cease to exist?
The last thing keeping me alive is my mother.
She is diabetic type 1, and wasnt supposed to get pregnant. But she wanted a daughter, and as stubborn as she is, refused to get an abortion, and gave birth to me 2 months before my due date with a C-section.
So to the family I was a miracle. A child who wasnt supposed to exist.
They spoiled me.
But now as I looked back, only 14 years of age, I wonder if i shouldnt have lived through that birth, for why would anyone create someone whos has such horrible thoughts of suicide.
I am a shell. I donate money to hospitals, I do famins, I even wish to become a peacekeeper.
People think of me as careing.
Yes I would feel bad if something bad happend to someone, but I’m selfish, I only want to make-up for what I’ve done. Which I can’t even atmit to myself.
I killed my mother.
When I was 12 she died due to kidney problems, linked to the preasure they went under while she was pregnant.
I want to be with her.