I Remember…

I remember the day I found out I could actively take my life. It was the first time I realized I could die. It was freshman year. Two kids died that year. I knew them both fairly well. I guess that’s when it all really started. I knew I wasn’t like everyone else, but it seemed okay. I thought I would grow out of it. I didn’t.

I remember the day my life changed forever. I found my birthfather, or rather he found me. I made the mistake of meeting him. I remember shortly after my adopted dad found out he had a daughter much older than me. That was when our lives as a family shattered. It nearly killed my mom. In a way it did because she never recovered. She was never the woman I remember her to be again. I miss her.

I remember the day I realized my father couldn’t love me. He had no ability to love. Not truly. Not the way I needed him to. He was mad at me for some cookies. He wouldn’t even at me. I remember feeling my heart shatter like glass. There are no masking it. All the “I love you’s” cant cover up the pain he has made me feel.

I remember the day I realized I didn’t love my family either. Not the way I should at least. I am embarrassed by them and they make everything weird and awkward. Its not normal or healthy, but I will never explain it to them. I stopped going to family events or talking to my family.

I remember the day I realized my dad was a racist. I knew for a while, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I knew any longer. I was ashamed. There was nothing to do. My dad had lost himself to his anger and decided to vent it on people who didn’t deserve it. Now he just hates everyone.

I remember the day I decided I was going to take my own life. It was the day before senior year of high school. I realized that I wanted to take my own life. My dad was yelling at me for something stupid as dirty laundry and I realized that life wasn’t worth living. I was ready to hang myself and my not was simple. “I’m sorry for disappointing you”. That was the first time i actively tried to die. The first time I truly wanted to die. That feeling never went away.

I remember the day I chose a date to commit suicide in the future. It was the day I found out my dog died. He was probably one of my best friends who always wanted to b with me. He wouldn’t run away from me. He was always there for me and then he got sick. Leukemia. We found out why he was so sick just a few hours before I died. I found out in a parking lot afterwards. I never got to say goodbye. I kept putting off seeing his body, but I never got to do it. I regret that. I should have been there, but I wasn’t. I can never forgive myself for that. I decided the day my cat died I would do it.

I remember the day I knew I was broken. That day is today. I realize I’m broken and I don’t want to be fixed. I can’t be fixed.

I don’t want to remember any more. I just want it to stop.