Throwing Away Everything

Last night I began to throw away all of my personal belonging.  I hardly looked at them because I didn’t want to linger in any memories or meanings they might have had… and they all did. I threw away some CD’s, birthday and valentine cards. It’s strange, actually going through with what I planned out. I don’t want to leave any trace that I was ever there. I don’t want my family to go through my things and be sad. They shouldn’t. If they knew all the bad things I did, they wouldn’t cry. I’m sick of trying to redeem myself, because for me, if there was a God, even he or she wouldn’t be able to forgive me. In my heart, I do feel a lot of guilt, so by me going through with it, is my way to atone for the wrongs I’ve done.

There is no way I can keep going. I don’t see it anymore. I don’t see myself dying old, don’t see myself with grandkids let alone kids, and I did want kids but what kind of mom would I be with scars up and down my wrists. I’m unstable, emotionally, eventually the state or even their father would take them away. I don’t see myself finishing college, making my parents proud and working as a nurse. I’ve lost interest in life all together.

First, I have to get rid of every trace of my existence in that house, in my room. It’s going to be so hard for me to throw away my books, my poems, my stories and my drawings. All the posters on my walls, the perfumes, rings, earrings and necklaces, everything. Everything has to go. Every shelf will be empty. All the clothes gone. They won’t have to sort anything out.

I wish that things were different. I wish that I didn’t want to die. But all the signs are there. I’m suppose to go through with it. They’ll be better of.