I used to want to die. I woke up every morning amazed that of all the chances I had to die during the night, I hadn’t taken any, and that I had lived to the morning.
I used to want everything to end, quietly for me, but for others to see the result of my suffering, to know that I suffered while they watched, for the proof of my suffering to remain in my body. Â I wanted my death to be revenge; a wake up, a message I didn’t know how to tell when I was alive. I hated you enough to do this. I loved you enough to do this. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I messed up again I’m sorry
I’ve had help since then. A part of me is glad I did. I’ve talked to therapists who taught me how to eradicate these thoughts, who have convinced me that these thoughts are poison in my mind that will eat up my mind and my heart, leaving nothing but death. I’ve talked to my mom as she cried and I cried and realized I never wanted to make her cry like that ever again.
I’ve learned to look towards the future, the unknown, oblivious, void of a future, for something to hope for. I’ve learned to want to live, to want to survive, though I still don’t know what I’m waiting for.
I’m not waiting for love. I’ve discovered a lot time ago, I don’t love like most people do. I’ve had boyfriends who I’ve tried to love, to see if I could feel something. I’ve had girlfriends, to see if I was just looking in the wrong place. I pretended to love, hoping it could be real, but always eventually broke, from frustration in myself, and for pity for the person who probably knew there was nothing there but kept hoping I’m so sorry
I’ve stopped worrying about what I will happen after college
My therapist tried to convince me that my staying in school despite my suicidal depression is a sign that I am a determined person, a person who wants to live.
But I’m not. I’m  just a person who’s afraid of the unknown, of what will happen if I don’t go to college find a job get married have kids get a mortgage live a quiet life like adults have been telling me all my life. I’m not a person who wants to be alive. I’m just a person who’s too afraid to die.
All that has changed in me since I tried to die is wanting to die.
I still break everything I touch. I ruin everything I have. I don’t know how to fix things, fix people, relationships, lives, much less myself. A lot of people have tried to be patient with me. A lot of people have left me. A lot of people blame me for it. I blame me too. A lot of people hate me and because I ruin everything I don’t know how to fix anything I hate myself god I hate myself so much
I don’t know how to say I’m sorry I didn’t mean for this to happen I’m sorry How do I fix this I’m sorry I’m sorry
I don’t say it because if they want to leave I can’t hold them
I don’t want to die
I used to want to die. I used to want this to be over. But I don’t want to die anymore. I’m afraid. I’m so goddamn afraid.
I have therapy to thank for that.
I have nowhere to go. I just want to disappear. I want to evaporate like water in a cup that no one realizes is gone and seep out through a crack in the window and drift away over the ocean and become a cloud that rains down into the ocean and by the time anyone realizes I’m gone I’m already gone and I’ve disappeared. I want to become a star that fades with the dawn that explodes during the day into billions of little pieces of stardust, and by the time the night comes again no one notices that a little star is just gone until its lack of light reaches the Earth but guess what it’s already gone gone gone
2 comments
I love you’r post, it’s reflect pretty well what I feel sometime
don’t we all? want to disappear that is.