How do you tell someone that they’re the reason? How do you explain to them that they need to stop, and think about the things they say to you before it’s too late?
I wouldn’t say I’m completely past the point of suicidal thoughts, I wish I were. But I’m definitely not past the point of looking for jobs in foreign countries and fantasizing about packing up everything and just vanishing.
Do loved ones even realize the effect they truly have on us? Do they understand anything about how our minds work?
I feel like I’ve told them a thousand times about how sad I am, and how much they hurt me, but it never stops.
I like to think that one day I will have saved up enough money to just get in my car and drive away from this all. Just leave all the hurt and confusion behind. I think that running away is like suicide in a way. You still vanish from people’s lives, no one knows where you are or why you’ve done what you have, but you give yourself the chance for happiness. To start over and live your life in a new light.
Maybe one day I’ll give myself that chance. Once I figure out what’s holding me back.
4 comments
JUST DO IT, take of to some other country live your life don’t end it.
In my opinion family often has a sort of idealised view of themselves – blood is thicker than water – they (supposedly) understand their family member the best etc. It seems that in most cases it’s not true.
Perhaps it’s a bit harsh to say so, but if You’re old enough, maybe move to a friend’s house? (Then again I strongly agree that friends are better than blood relations…)
Either way, I hope You get better and good luck.
this is EXACTLY what I am planning to do. Vanish and hit the road on the other side of the world.. just building up the courage. Its hard to sever ties.. but I’ve been doing that all my life. Backpack, passport, good pair of shoes.. almost ready to go. Maybe I’ll see you out there..
So what would I do if I lost my thumb?
Settle on down in a white picket cage,
Take up banking and live by the numbers?
Forget the drivers who once took me in
From the seizing cold and the hounding rain?
Would the roar of the Highway still find me
At night and keep me from getting to sleep?
I suppose I’d just get it sewn back on,
One more scar isn’t going to kill me
And I’m really bad with numbers besides.