I will not argue that people aren’t shit, but there is merit in this world. Maybe not for people like us, but for some people, this existence, is the best thing imaginable. Now I know we may not get that, you have to want to see good in the world but not only that you also have to accept that there is bad. It is the yin to our yang. I’m not saying you have to be happy about it. Hell none of us would be here if we were happy. However, if you just sit back and listen to the hum of the world everything starts to seems just a little bit better. But it isn’t easy…
Life is but a glimmer
In the infinite darkness
While all that we know
But in truth
We are ants
We are but bugs
Crushed be the universe
By the dreams we bind ourselves to
Grasping for a greater purpose
Grasping for the glimmer
Do you ever think maybe you’re wrong?
Maybe if you just talked to someone it’d all fix itself?
I’ve thought about it.
But what magical solution would someone else have that I didn’t?
Is there really some magical phrase that would suddenly make me better?
Is there really a cure for feeling like your existence is unecessary?
When does something become a problem?
How much is far enough?
Am I sick?
Am I just a hypochondriac?
Can this even be described as sickness?
I don’t want to do it anymore.
I haven’t wanted to do anything for awhile now.
Is that enough?
Can I go now?
How much longer?
Is that what you need?
Is it still not enough?
I’m sorry I’ll try harder?
When can I go?
I’ll leave now
Why do some say its love or death?
If there is another option then go for it;
for me there is just death.
Its not a an if its a when.
Honestly, ive tried before,
people who know tell me its a miracle.
To me its a curse,
It feels inescapable
Ive heard stories,
people who are glad they failed,
To me it feels like I can’t even do it right.
I will succeed next time.
I don’t care when
Loose ends don’t matter to dead people.
That moment in the night when the ac turns off, the animals quiet, breathing slows, and all you’re left with is the unshakable silence. Even though there are sounds, your ears refuse to listen and eventually everything fades to nothing. That silence seems to last a lifetime.
First it’s the heartbeat, the blood flowing through your body, the faint breathing, then it all comes like a flood of sounds, and in that short moment you were reminded how insignificant your existence is.
I remember the first time I told someone in person that I had attempted suicide many times. I had just forfeited a debate round and my coach was furious. I was talking off my anxiety with the girl I still love today (4 years later).
I was walking on one of those concrete walls next to stairs outside, this one more tall than usual, personally I’m terrified of falling/heights. So to calm myself down I try to do something that is more terrifying than my thoughts, that’s how I overcome my anxiety attacks. So anyway I’m pacing back and forth on this wall talking to my friend and I just said “sometimes I just wish I’d fall off and die in a freak accident” and she just looks at me horrified (I don’t typically talk to anyone about personal things). She says “that’s not something to joke about” I simply told her that it wouldn’t be the first time I’d tried. She asked how many times and I told her I’d lost count. We left it at that.
I think the things that surprised me the most is that firstly it was actually fairly easy to tell someone and secondly that she had no idea.
Now I started this off by saying it was the first time I’ve told someone; however, it’s also the only time. Every other person never asked. How can someone have had ton of siblings and attempted many times over 8 years and no one notice?
My guess is they did.
The stories about suicide attampts vary. There are some who instantly regret it and others who realize there was no regret. The latter often try again, I am apart of the latter.
I do understand the most do not succeed on a first attempt; but, I’d like to think that my chances would have increased by the 15th. However, I still try, try, try again hoping for a different result. Honestly, I don’t really remember how many times it has been now.
Yet, to me none of that matters. Eventually one day I’ll get it right. You’d think after all these attempts someone would care to say something. What hurts me the most isn’t that I have no interest in life, it’s that my mom knows and has never tried to stop me. She has never even tried to talk to me about it. Yet, she puts all her problems on me. The other day she yelled at me for gaining weight. She said “you’re a good for nothing who won’t do anything with their life and got fat. You don’t deserve fitting clothes. Just fix you’re life and work it off”. Oh and obviously she means by myself as she has no interest in whether I live or die. The funny thing is most of you may think she is a shitty mom but to anyone who knows her calls her “the best mom“, “supermom“, and “the most supportive person and advisor“. I’m not sure why she is such a nicer person in public versus behind closed doors. Although I guess that sounds pretty easy and typical.
My mom did always call me a hypochondriac. Guess that’s just what she thinks my suicide attempts are “fake“.