I am suicidal. I'm not ashamed of it. Its not something I'm also proud of. But, my suicidal days are still vivid parts of my being.
I've slashed my wrists and stabbed myself. I even faked a motorcycle accident. Being a person who hides what she feels made it difficult for me to handle problems. Writing became a useless outlet when my problems suffocated me.
I am at this phase... the phase where I most often thought of ending my life again. Problems everywhere. Home, work, personal ones... I hate what they're making me feel. Useless, unworthy, a nuisance, a black sheep.
I'm thirsty for blood. My own blood. I want to feel it ooze out of my body again. But this time, I'd close my eyes... to welcome that warm feeling and...
To keep myself from losing consciousness because of hematophobia.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
It's My Birthday
I'm a year older now. I don't know how to react. Should I be grateful that I get to live a year again? Or should I be depressed coz I've been through another year of pain and hurt?
I'm 24 now. I should be more mature. I should be more open about things I feel. But here I am, sulking. Pushing aside my family's efforts to make this birthday a happy one. Well, why should I let them make me believe another year full of lies again?
It's my birthday... and just like the previous ones I've had, I'm again reminded of my faults. If I were given the choice, I would have chosen a different one. I would have chosen to die.
Yes, die. Think of me as another suicidal adult who was not able to let go of the past that's been haunting me for years. I tried facing it before but they've brushed me off, saying that I'm being the drama queen again.
This year, I hope it'd be my last... I'm tired of crying, of sulking, of acting tough when I really want to breakdown and give myself a good cry.
It's my birthday... and I've cried again. For the nth time. I've drunk alone for fear that people might see me breakdown and cry. Even in my own day, I've chosen to wear this mask of indifference.
Just like it has always been.. for the past 24 years..
I'm 24 now. I should be more mature. I should be more open about things I feel. But here I am, sulking. Pushing aside my family's efforts to make this birthday a happy one. Well, why should I let them make me believe another year full of lies again?
It's my birthday... and just like the previous ones I've had, I'm again reminded of my faults. If I were given the choice, I would have chosen a different one. I would have chosen to die.
Yes, die. Think of me as another suicidal adult who was not able to let go of the past that's been haunting me for years. I tried facing it before but they've brushed me off, saying that I'm being the drama queen again.
This year, I hope it'd be my last... I'm tired of crying, of sulking, of acting tough when I really want to breakdown and give myself a good cry.
It's my birthday... and I've cried again. For the nth time. I've drunk alone for fear that people might see me breakdown and cry. Even in my own day, I've chosen to wear this mask of indifference.
Just like it has always been.. for the past 24 years..
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