I am not being bullied. I am not being abused. I am not anorexic. I am not depressed. But sometimes, it hurts. Even the smallest things make the biggest difference, & it hurts. It hurts to notice, it hurts to feel, it hurts to be alive.
7 years old, 12 years old, 17 years old, 22 years old, it’s all too much, I don’t know how much more I can take.
I may be suicidal, but I never had the courage. I don’t know why but I see those who suicide have courage, the courage to do it, the courage to leave everything behind, the courage to end it once and for all, not being afraid of death, but I am.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone would miss me? Would my dad be less stubborn? Would my brother treat me as good as his girlfriend? Would my mom regret for shouting at me earlier in the day? Would she have treated me better? Would she regret for life? The thought of her regretting makes me feel better, at least I mattered.
Sad isn’t it? It takes death for someone to realize how much they mean to them?
But is it sadder that these things take time to get over? And soon, you’ll remain as nothing but a memory.