I’m still breathing, the blood is still rushing through my veins, my hands are still moving. From the outside, everything seems to be okay. I seem like a normal high school girl, with a bubbly personality, always smiling, always happy. If only they would take the time to look beneath that mask I put on everyday. If only they would go that extra step to notice that the countless scars on my arm are not from my rabbits, but from my Swiss knife. If only they would realize that their words kick me over the edge every time.
I could probably spend ages going through each argument I use to convince myself that my suicide attempts were justified. The point I would probably start with? If I would have to choose, it would be the fact that I lost the only man who ever loved me for who I am. Or maybe the hundreds of hurtful comments. Maybe the evil glares, the judging looks, the giggling when I walk past. Maybe the fact that each day I come home to a broken family. Maybe that whenever I do the slightest thing wrong I get driven up against the wall, with my mom’s hand around my neck. Maybe the fact that in just two months time, my best friend has to have surgery on his neck and only has a 50% chance of surviving. Maybe the fact that all my “friends” are people I met over the internet. But, if I’m honest, most likely it would be the fact that whenever I look into the mirror, all I wish for is to be anyone else, just not me.
But exactly this, the reasons, is what I am ashamed of. I should probably just get over it. I mean, come on, there are people out there who have lost their child, who have lost everything they owned, who have been victimized by a fatal disease. And then there’s me…a healthy girl, who goes to private school, gets everything materialistic she wants and has been told so many times that she is worth it. Yet, everyday I fall asleep thinking about how one day I will gather the strength to kill myself.
I once read a book about the Vietnam War, “The Sorrow of War”. Bao Ninh, the author, was part of a 500-man troop. Only ten of them survived. I threw that book against the wall so many times, I lost count. His first love was violently raped in front of his eyes, his best friends died in his arms, his passion slipped away. I was so angry when I read it. Humanity disgusted me ever since.
All I live for right now is to, one day, sit in the United Nations and make sure these horrible things never ever happen again. It’s almost impossible, I know. I’m trying. I really am. When I was 13, I wrote a 30,000 word essay on the global issues, when I was 14, I wrote and published an article about the philosophical perception of beauty and then, this year, I wrote, together with a lawyer, a book on international heritage law. And yet, people still call me “book smart”. I work day and night to one day help these people, the same exact people who have torn me down all my life. Yet, slowly, I come to wonder about this. Why should I go through all this pain to help these immoral monsters? These selfish thoughts…they are what I hate the most about myself. I am so privileged, but yet, I cannot get myself to truly appreciate it.
My depression, the social anxiety, the suicidal tendencies…they make everyday life so hard. I can’t concentrate on anything anymore. I can’t even walk to the supermarket anymore, without becoming paranoid about what other people might think about me. I had so much potential, but I let other people ruin me…or maybe it was myself, maybe it was me who killed the happy little girl inside of me.
My last suicide attempt dates back 5 months…I promised myself I won’t try again until I hit college. My biggest fear? Maybe even at college…things won’t get better…and then I have to face what scares me the most…death. And that time, I will have to pull through with it. I can’t continue lying. Isn’t that so ironical? I’ve tried to kill myself twice now and yet, I am horrendously scared of what might come after death. Wow…I am pathetic.
Actually, I don’t want to die, I just wish I were never born.
I don’t think any person truly wants to die. But when the pain is too much and there are no more ways to deal with it…many of us see death as the last way out.
As hypocritical as this will sound…whoever is reading this out there…don’t give up. Don’t let your past consume you, don’t let the future frighten you.
If you ever smiled, if you were ever truly happy, if you ever had any kind of positive experience…then living must have been worth it, am I right?
2 comments
Well, Stillbreathing, that’s a very good note of optimism you end your post on…Tennyson famously said “’tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at al,” and I don’t know if that’s true…but if you replace “love” with “live,” and you DO have some good experiences…
Well, at least you had those, and no one can take them from you–they’re good aspects of your past and, more importantly good aspects of yourself that you can build off of, regardless of who says what about you or who looks at you the wrong way; such people, they pass in time, and such times, they pass in favor of better people when you have the seeds to something better, and I think you do.
I take it you’re in high school, Stillbreathing?
That’s very, very early in your life–I know that probably goes without saying, but there will not only be so many more days to your life, and so many better ones, but, more vitally still, so many DIFFERENT days to come…
To get off my literary high horse and quote a kids’ book I loved way back when…
“Things won’t look the same at fifteen as they did at ten, and at twenty everything will change again.”
Alec Bings (Who Sees Through Things, of course) of “The Phantom Tollbooth” isn’t wrong…life is an ever-changing sequence of sequences…high school is as different from pre-school as being a freshman in college will be from high school, and being an upperclassman (or upperclass-woman, we’re all for gender equality here, eh?) will be different altogether from that…graduation and your first forays into life without school will be different altogether from THAT…and on and on.
High school is difficult for many–it was for many when I was there.
I knew someone who attempted suicide when I was in high school…tried it with a butter knife…he wound up surviving, and sought help…and life is different now, and he’s OK…
Because life now is different than life then…he’s different than he was then…
And the same may apply with you, Stillbreathing.
You sound remarkably intellectually-precocious and driven for your age, and believe me, that’ll benefit you IMMENSELY when you get to college! 🙂
That people shoot you dirty looks or sneer or treat you badly for no good reason speaks volumes about the kinds of people THEY are right now and DOES NOT speak to the sort of person YOU are…
The sort of person you are is defined by what you do and what you think and what you are…
And right now what you do is produce great work for your age, what you think is natural for (pardon me if I’m off-base here) a young woman of teen years who’s socially anxious and doesn’t want others to see it for fear of what that might lead to, giggles and belies a far smarter, far truer person beneath to try and fit in a bit better…
And who you are is an amalgamation of all of that, the nervousness and the potential alike, it’s a matter of cultivating the latter and taking from the former the lessons that come with growing up to grow past the pains you feel right now, which I’m sure are genuine, but I’m equally sure that such a person as yourself CAN grow past them…
And CAN have a good, happy, fulfilling, sure life at the next stage.
You just have to make it there, and it can be a hard road, high school…
But it’s a road I’m sure you can navigate.
Your own advice is good advice–smart words from a very smart young woman…
Listen to her and trust her in this respect–and respect her, for sure. She deserves it.
🙂
Hi Sherlock Hamlet 🙂 I honestly have to admit I cried when I read your comment…my ex-boyfriend always told me, even though I get good grades, I’m nothing special…I’m only “book smart” and that I shouldn’t think I’ll get anywhere…in the moment he said it I could feel my world collapse over my head…I said something I shouldn’t have said…but that is off the topic.
You see, I know things certainly could change. I mean, two years ago I was a happy girl, keeping track and writing down all positive comments I received from other people. Now, I am depressed and only write down the hurtful comments. Things can always change. Just…what I’m truly scared of, is that I act from impulse. Last June I received a message from someone who was once a good friend, who knew all my secrets and wishes. Would you like to know what the message said? “I’m wondering how you don’t get a harpoon up your ass every time you swim, because they mistake you for a whale.” The next morning I attempted suicide…sadly someone rescued me. After my first attempt I never wanted to try again. But I did, because my emotions got the better of me.
If anything, that is what is going to kill me. But, I must say, I can’t thank you enough for your kind words. Maybe I will be able to get out of bed tomorrow…maybe I will be able to go through this week without cutting. You gave me back a tiny bit of my confidence and I’m so grateful. I don’t know who you are, but you’re a wonderful person…keep it up 🙂