Blood Thirsty

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.

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 am

I'm a brat. I'm so used to getting the things that I want, or having things my way. I was spoiled; by my parents, relatives, even my guy friends. I grew up thinking that I could have everything that I want though I never really need it.

I'm selfish. I keep things to myself. I don't want to share. I just want to acquire knowledge and experiences that might help me when I grow old. I'd hide what I have 'cause whatever it is, it's mine.

I'm a pack rat. I keep a lot of things even if they don't have any value. Old chocolate boxes, memoirs, letters... I still have them with me. My room seems crowded because of all the things inside. I have numerous boxes where I keep each type of memento.

I'm a coward. I hide what I feel 'cause I'm afraid to be hurt. I've had numerous blows; countless stabs that I've mended well but remained with scars.

I am a selfish brat who wants to have things going my way. I'm a pack rat whose cowardice makes me keep things to myself and hide what I feel.

I am me.

Piscean Mumble

I've been busy... with work, with personal battles... I've lost time to think, to feel the change in my environment. I'm currently at lost, lost whether it's time to move on... undecided whether I should stay.

There's these attacks again. Depression lurks. Satirical thoughts, caustic words all haunt my sleep. Vivid colors of different hues would turn into black and gray dreams. Feelings evoked would range from sheer joy to pain.

I still don't know the reason behind or what caused these dreams. I'm slowly sinking in my anxiety.

in the morning

when i wake up tomorrow morning, things would be much better. my days would be lighter, i'd feel ready to take on any challenges.

that would be tomorrow... not now coz..

right now, i'm at my lowest. i feel so depressed, unwanted, unloved. alone.