Would a person die when he’s dead?
Or would he only feel more pain?
I knew I’m already suffering from depression a year ago but it’s only last week that I started to hurt myself physically. It just happened. I don’t even know when or how something sharp came into my hand to slit my wrists. All I know is that I shove it on my skin and felt the burning pain beneath. And that it felt so good. To finally feel the pain. To finally divert my attention on my bleeding wrist rather than what I feel inside.
It was the time my brother came to yell at me for being the most brainless human being to have ever lived on land (not that he said that exactly, English isn’t our main language). It’s not as if I’m not used to him telling me the meanest things one could ever tell his sister. What I don’t understand is why does he have to shove those awful things right on my face. He always tell me I do what I do to make him look bad, to make him the bad guy in front of my parents. What’s ironic is that he isn’t a bad brother in front of our parents. He is when our parents aren’t around.
Four years ago, when we were about 12 and 13 (he’s a year older than I am), he would always throw punches at me and kick me and say awful things at me. He would always put the blame on me. Make me see that it’s always my fault whenever something bad happens. He has a way to rub it on my face and actually make me feel guilty even for the things I know isn’t my fault. He’s just so good in making me feel so bad for myself that I started to see myself as how he sees me–Failure. Stupid. Dumb. Weak. A sister he wished he never had.
Perhaps I can grant him at least one of those.
Even if I succeed, I would also see myself a failure. Even if I become even way more intelligent, I would always be the dumb and stupid sister of his. Even if I’d become stronger and braver, he would always find a way to make me look weak. All of those I call myself because I started to actually see myself the way he does.
Yet there’s still one left. If I die. If only I can vanish. If I just disappear.
He would get one wish granted. He would never have to see me again.
I know I can’t do it. Not yet.
But perhaps someday.
When I’m ready. When it’s time.