This is the first time I am putting this in writing much less saying it to anyone. I have been suicidal ever since I can remember. I first tried to commit suicide when I was in grade 5, I think that would make me 11. I had heard in news about a guy who wanted to commit suicide by over-dosing but ended up killing his niece and nephew when they consumed the desert he had made for himself with plenty of sleeping pills. I was young then so I didn’t know just how much “plenty” meant. I asked my maid-servant (I am from Asia and it’s normal for a middle class family to have maids, just so you know) to get me sleeping pills from the pharmacy. She was only a few years older than me (and a little slow on the uptake) so she didn’t know any better and got me 8 sleeping pills. I took all of them and went to bed hoping not to see the light of day. Unfortunately, I woke up just fine the next day. No sickness, no nothing. I figured I needed more than just 8 pills so I asked her to get me some more, but the pharmacist became suspicious this time and refused to sell her anymore. My plans were thwarted,  but the thought never permanently left my mind.
Later I would read stories about people committing suicide and this time I also saw how people reacted to it. I learned that suicide was something weak people do. To stay strong meant to go past that urge to end your life; to commit suicide was cowardly and pathetic. I decided I would never let people judge me or my family, so I decide to put the suicidal thoughts to the back burner. I strove to be a good daughter, after all my parents had done so much to bring me up. I wanted to give back to them, I wanted to make them happy. If only I tried I thought I could. However, the thought, the desire to end things, the want to never wake up, it never left. The more I pushed it back the stronger it grew.
Now not a day goes by that I don’t have suicidal thoughts. Most mornings I wake up and wish that I were dead, I fantasize about ways that I could kill myself. I guess the fact that I haven’t done so so far must mean that I might still have some will to live right? But I have started to doubt that too now. I was almost in a plane accident once, a spark had started in the plane circuit and people right and left were panicking. You know what I felt at that moment? Happiness. If I really had a desire to live, shouldn’t there have been a moment of panic, a moment or regret for things I haven’t done yet, things that I haven’t said? The only things that really stops me from committing suicide are the feeling of guilt for the first person who would have to witness my dead body, and next the feeling of guilt for the remorse I would cause to my parents. Having your kids die before you is bad enough, but finding out that the same kid you invested you life for did not want to live anymore must be torturous. I owe them that much, even if I may not be able to make them happy, I don’t deserve to steal their happiness. I know you will tell me to live for them, I know that and that’s what I am trying to do but it’s so hard. It’s so hard to push back that darkness and face the world everyday. It’s so hard to face people. (Sometimes I feel nervous just to interact with people. hah I don’t understand why, for I do have friends) It’s so hard to get out of my bed. There are times when I cannot bring myself to do anything for days on end. I can’t eat or drink and just stay in bed hoping it would be the end.
Before I was able to live a normal life even with these thoughts always inside me, but now it has started to affect my everyday life. I can’t seem to fulfill my responsibilities. I feel like I find a secret pleasure in self-destruction. Things I know I should do, I avoid it until the moment that I know it will back-fire at me. I can’t sleep until my head is so heavy with sleeplessness that all I can do is collapse. I know I can continue like this because I am too big a chicken to kill myself and it is highly unlikely that someone else would do so for me. I wish everyday that there was a way I could kill myself and make it look like a normal death. Too bad I don’t have a drivers license nor do I have any license to buy chemical products (I am in the US now). I have  tried dehydration, hah doesn’t work.  Suffocation is impossible. Yet I know I will continue to live, maybe I will even get old some day but I can’t help but ask myself, what is the point in all this when I can never cast aside that darkness, when I never truly feel happy, when I have had symptoms of depression from as far back as I can remember? What is the point when I don’t have the passion or will to live? What is the point when it feels like this depression is going to haunt me for life and leave me a sad old hag. Trust me, I would kill to have that passion for life, that will to live, for I do want to live, I just don’t know how…