Sometimes I wonder what it feels like to hold my life in my hands, knowing that at any moment it could end. I find myself clutching a knife and wondering what would happen if I just thrust it into my stomach or into my throat. I sometimes go to the bathroom and take the bleach and hold it in my hands willing myself to drink it. Even in my most happiest moment, the thought of death still manage to pierce my inner most thoughts and I become at the mercy of my self-doubts and self-hatred. I think about death more than I think about life.I can never tell anyone about this and because of that I feel like I am about to explode.
I am a coward. Only cowards would search for the easy way and death is the easy way out. I am so weak that I can’t even bring myself to do the one thing that I crave the most in this God-forsaken life. I can’t bring myself to end my life. I don’t find anything to be beautiful anymore. When I look at anything, all I see is wretchedness and brokenness and that includes when I look at myself. I can’t even see my family the same way I used to see them when I was a little girl. Now, when I look at them, I don’t feel love, I don’t feel hatred, I just feel emptiness. What kind of a monster am I?
All I want to do is crawl in a big dark hole and die and I hate myself for thinking this way. What about my unborn children? Am I really willing to take away their lives, before they could have a chance to live? I don’t deserve to live. Even though this note will probably be lost among the other notes right after I write it, I can’t help but hope in my heart that someone will hear my plea for help.
I’ve gotten to the point where I am afraid of my own self, afraid of what I am capable of doing to my self when I am alone. I’ve become my own monster. And I hate it! I want to be happy again. I want to smile a genuine smile again. I don’t understand why I feel the way I do. Is it because of my weight? Is it because of my background? Is it because I am not good enough? Why? That’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately. Why? I don’t know why. And I hate that I can’t understand my own self, I hate that I am being so selfish. People have it worse than me. What gives me the right to feel this way? I am a terrible person. That is why I need to die. My mind have gone bad. Sometimes I feel like I am already dead; in those moments, I just lay down on the floor and cry until my head hurts. I don’t have anyone to confide in. No one understands. Right now I can’t help but feel that this might be my suicide note.