Holding On.

I was always that little girl smiling everyday. I was a ballerina, you know. You would look at me and think I was always so happy. Wearing pink, giggling with my friends, dreaming of my future. I wanted to live in a mansion, with maids and butlers, and four children. I wanted to be a chef, a teacher, and a singer. Then I turned twelve. That’s when everything went downhill. I still remember the night of March so clearly. You know how they say when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes? I’m telling you now, that whoever started that saying, is correct. My life literally just…it just flashed in an instant before my eyes. I had attempted suicide on March 1st, 2010. My close friend Angel, and my father was fast asleep. As usual, I sleep in the same bed as my friend when they spend the night. But I crawled out of bed, and I ran into the kitchen. I was blinded from my tears, and the kitchen was the only place nobody could hear me. I had taken along a razorblade with me. One I made myself. I had opened up a new shaver, and took out the blade. I leaned against the cool wall, and did what I had to do. The razor I was using to slit my wrists had gone too deep. When you have been cutting for so long, you just kind of forget that it’s possible to die from it. You just blindly cut. I cut inwards toward my vein, and I bled out. It seemed like I was up for hours, because I had gone into the kitchen around six in the morning. But I see my dad towering over me, and he’s just pulling me, and he’s kind of shaking me. I pass out for a little while. I can promise you this. When you are on the point of dying, your life entirely flashes before your eyes. I saw everything. I don’t know how it’s possible, because it was just one flash. But I can clearly remember everything. I saw everything, even things I had no idea happened. Things I was probably too young to remember. I stayed in the hospital for almost a month. It was that bad. They had to make sure I wasn’t infected from all my other cuts. You know, the ones on my thighs, my legs, my arms, my wrists, my neck, my hands, my stomach. Todays date is July 19, 2011. They don’t know I am still suicidal. I’m holding on for a particular reason. I can still do it. I can still take my own life. And this time, I won’t fail.