I’m not particularly sure why I’m writing this because it’s all so redundant to me but I can’t express myself in any other way at the moment… so prepare yourself or avert your eyes. I parked my car by 30 today and walked but couldn’t get to the tracks because a creek was in the way and the highway was on the other side. I drove around for two hours just looking for an appropriate place to park. I became bored after so long which is hilariously ironic. Suicide is much like executing someone except the condemned is yourself. Often I am two people . Sometimes I feel like I am an executioner pushing myself off the scaffold and the crowd of jeering, cheerful spectators are also me. Sometimes I feel like a sniveling prisoner who’s being dragged to their death crying, pleading, and begging for mercy. I deserve no sympathy; all my pride is gone. I’ve seen too much destruction to continue functioning properly and so it’s my own duty to put myself to sleep.
I just turned 22. I will not turn 23. I lived in a quiet, suburban hell as a child. In my short life I’ve been brutally raped numerous times, prostituted, forced to witness rape numerous times, beaten, tortured, almost murdered, and forced to sexually violate another person. My mother is a pill popper and my father is an alcoholic. I love my brother dearly but he’s also an alcoholic. I smoke ridiculous amounts of weed so I can’t judge. Out of all things I value my education and artistic ability the most but now even these qualities do not saitiate my misery. Even through sadistic abuse and emotional neglect I’ve remained somewhat human because of art, music, beautiful writings, and poetry.Â
I witnessed incest accidently recently a few times at the house I now reside in. The victim is 18 and unwilling to stop it from continuing. This killed any remaining motivation in me. Why is it anywhere I go I end up seeing someone hurt? Watching someone be raped is like watching them be murdered. If only he would’ve choked me longer I would not be here but that’s the problem with a sadist: they actually know what they’re doing.
I’m in college but I don’t care about it which makes me angry at myself. I’m overdrawn, I’m ugly, and most of all, I’m useless. My life will always be empty no matter what I do. Even though God is a neurotic sadist, I believe he exists. He exists soley to destroy hope and crush will. I am nothing more than a vapid and isolated whore. I’ve been replaced already by someone with a greater value. I am a poorly tended machine and I cannot be fixed.
For those of you that will be cleaning the pulp of blood, meat, and shit off the tracks and undercarriage of the train: I apologize. For those of you that are angry and disgusted by such a hollow, selfish act of unspeakable humiliation: I understand your disgust and contempt for people like me. I hate myself as much as you do, maybe even more. For the few people who I am lucky enough to have care: I love you and I know you love me as much as irreversibly damaged people could. If you love me set me free. If there is nothingness after death I’ll be happy with that. If there’s a Hell than it will be a new kind of pain. I cannot take this deep, gnawing despair anymore. I refuse to keep trying at a game I can’t win. I didn’t create this and I can’t kill it. I can only kill the source of the infection and that is myself.
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Please, please don’t harm yourself, honey. You’re not disgusting or contemptible — those descriptors belong to the people who have wronged you so deeply. Anyone who’s been through what you have would be really, really fucked up. Take it from me; I was sexually abused as a child myself — although I hasten to add that my abuse was nowhere near as bad as what you’ve described — and I know the feeling of being indelibly stained, of being so small and loathsome and pathetic that I can feel myself putrefying. Oh, the sheer fucking vileness that humanity is capable of, the remorseless cruelty — I know. Believe me when I say that I know. Most days I feel that humankind and this world aren’t worth two shits myself. But you’re right when you say that you didn’t create this infection and that you can’t kill it on your own — you need to ask for help. It’s not hopeless. You need to call the cops, call 911 (or your country’s equivalent) or a suicide or rape hotline and ask them to lift you out of this hole. Yes, you might end up in a psych ward, and yes, it will be scariest fucking endeavor you’ve ever undertaken — scarier than throwing yourself in front of a train — to turn your life upside down, but you can’t be a victim. You just can’t. You can’t be a victim of the human refuse that has made your life a living Hell. If you kill yourself to get away from the pain they’ve inflicted upon you, they win; they win and you’ll be a corpse. That’s all. Furthermore, you would rescue your abused housemate from a situation they can’t escape on their own. Doesn’t that mean something? Isn’t that a good enough reason to spare your own life: if you can still use it to save another? If you’re standing on this precipice, you’ve got nothing left to lose; you might as well scatter all your inhibitions to the wind and get the law involved. They’ll get help for you and the victim with whom you’re living.
I know that concern from a faceless stranger on the Internet is meaningless, but if this is the end of the line, I figure that the ten minutes from my lifetime that I’ve taken to write this are the least I can spare. I can only hope that you’re still alive and will read this on the slim chance that you’ll take it to heart.
I want to die, too. I know. I’d love nothing more. But we have to live. I’ve seen people whom I would never in a thousand years have imagined could be okay someday — people so fucked up and fucked over that I couldn’t condemn them for wanting to end it — smiling and saying, “I’m so glad that I didn’t kill myself.” My hand to G-d. It’s possible; I know that it’s possible. And if this last-ditch effort — asking the authorities for help, to shelter and support you until you’re at least something close to okay — doesn’t work, if you’re still so irreparably shattered and mired in self-hatred after exhausting every option there is, then can’t you always kill yourself later? That’s how I survive, anyway: “I can always kill myself tomorrow. I’ll hold out just a little longer in case today changes my mind.”
I hope and I’ll pray that you live, and that in life you find peace. You’ve come so far; that’s evident. I can’t bear to see you give up now.
Feel free to email me at tenebriste@gmail.com if you’d like to talk. Again, I know that hearing this bullshit from a total stranger probably means nothing — Hell, I’d be taken aback if some self-righteous asshole on the Internet preached at me when I was in despair — but on the off-chance that it doesn’t, I’ll do my best to help. I’m wishing you the very best.
Oo, trains are messy. Most likely they’ll just hose it off after the police are done.
None of that shit. The rape, the incest, your parents, none of that’s your fault. I suggest you get far away from there if you want a chance to live.
Maybe take your brother with you. I don’t know how much you care.
Either way, get away from there.
Dear 22,
Because you have been treated so bad- you don’t know you are good. I hope you choose to live, but most of all I hope you experience peace with yourself. You deserve to feel peace.
You sound like a neat person.-very real and honest. You don’t sound like you would want to hurt people- it’s not your first instinct. If you choose to live you will undoubtedly help others as you walk your steps in life. You have integrity. You came on line and told your story.
May it be God- may it be the universe-to embrace you to calm your mind, to soften your heart towards yourself. May you know self acceptance if only for moments-but if you choose to live- and I hope you can, may you know kindness from others and the ability to feel compassion towards yourself.
I just picture yourself smiling in your heart. God, I want you to feel relief and peace that comes from self acceptance. Often it is only fleeting moments- but you so deserve to feel that peace.