The Internal Darkness

I think I understand why people who commit suicide are the people that everyone least expected. I know nobody would expect me. A Dean’s List student, the behavioral therapist who is always smiling and helping others at work, an active member of the community, a Christian, a loved daughter and fiancée, and a best friend who is always supportive and makes her friends feel important. Yet I don’t want to be here. Every night I say a small prayer to no one in particular, hoping that I won’t wake. I find myself driving down the highway numb, with a little voice saying let go of the wheel and speed off into that lake on the side of the road. What if this time I go vertical instead of horizontal? What if I took too many of these pills. It’s exhausting. I’m always tired, and the doctors and my family assume it’s something medical when it’s just my brain and heart. My heart yearns for death like the protagonist of a book yearns for his lost love. So why do I stay? I don’t know most days. Some call it a strength that I haven’t killed myself; I think it’s because I’m a coward. A coward because I have so many failed attempts. What if I had just taken more of those pills? What if I hadn’t tried to say goodbye? That’s how I would do it now. Not say anything to anyone, keep the mask on, and just disappear. Go somewhere they would never find my body so that those who love me…or think they love me… can still have hope that I’m alive and okay. I think that would be easier for them.

Weeping Angels

Would the world stop spinning if I died?

Would my mother cry and mourn the loss of her child?

Would my father be able to tolerate my mother to come to my funeral?

Would the man that would do anything for me find love again?

Would all my worries disappear or be placed on those who think they love me?

Does anyone truly love without conditions?

Is there life after death or just a void?

Should I do it?

I crave the place painted in pinks and oranges

Not the physical place

the other, it feels familiar

As if I once flew in those clouds

But now those colors

Fade

Fad

Fa

F

The snow muffles all sound, it's eerily quiet as I breathe

My breath rhythmic despite shivering,

Snowflakes feel like needles on my skin

But no red only never ending white

Peace, silence, innocence

I close my eyes, my shivers finally subsiding

Silent rain drifts down-

I hold the edge of the storm,

The Day

Why does my head have to ruin everything? Sure, I woke up tired today, but it was worth it because you kept me up, telling me how much you love me and how you want to protect me over and over again.  I have never felt so loved and needed by somebody. I woke up tired but happy, eager to go to work and see my friends and put good into the world, working with the kiddos. I went to work singing to the radio. My mom had been calling me for the past 3 days, and I don’t mean a call every now and then; I mean 10 calls back to back because I wasn’t answering. I don’t like to answer, I don’t know why, but instead of being happy seeing my mom’s caller ID pop up, I get anxious, my stomach turns, and I think “oh God, what now?” I don’t want to feel that way about my mom, and more often than not, I think I have the best mom in the world. I love my mom. I really do and would do anything for her. She is a good mom; she tries her best, which is all any child can ask for from a parent. It’s just sometimes… a lot of the time… she can be controlling, and it can push people to a breaking point. She did it with me, my dad, her fiancé, and my brother. She had a pretty messed-up childhood and upbringing, so I try to let it go. I try to look at her actions like she just wants what is best for me because she loves me, which she does, a lot. I tried to call her out on it and place the boundary of not spamming me, especially when she knows I’m at work. She started calling me ungrateful, a user, and crazy. Saying she’s going to block me and that my family all thinks I’m crazy. This is not my mother's fault. It was just the straw that broke the camel's back. This is the background to my note. 

The Notes

Mama,

I’m sorry. I know you’re beside yourself right now, wondering why and maybe even blaming yourself. Please don’t. You were an amazing mom who loved me and gave me everything I could need to be happy, healthy, and successful in life. I love you so so much. I never meant to seem selfish or ungrateful. I never meant to be a user. I wanted to make you proud. I always tried my best to. I wish you had used more positive words with me. Please do that for my little brother. He needs his parents. I hope you and Dad can use this as a growing experience to be better parents for him. I didn’t do this because of anything you did or didn’t do, Mama. I was just so tired of my head always telling me that life isn’t worth it, and well, my head finally won. I tried to get help; I went to a therapist and a psychiatrist. I tried the meds, and they help for a bit until I just feel numb or like I’m wearing a mask. I’m not me anymore after a while. Please know that I love you, Mama, and I’m so sorry. I know you would have dropped everything for me if I told you, but how do I tell the woman who gave birth to me, who would walk through Hell for me, that I just don’t want to live anymore? I’m sorry, Mama. I love you so much, I wish I had been a better daughter to you. Thank you for everything you have done for me. 

My love,

I love you, I really do. I didn’t do this because of anything you did or didn’t do. You made me laugh like I haven’t laughed in years, you made me feel alive again and confident in my own skin, which I never really thought was possible for me. I’m sorry I hurt you like this, not letting you in again. I know all you wanted was to be there for me, and you were. That’s why I survived this long. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t take it anymore. The thoughts of being gone. Life was just too hard, my mom will say that she gave me a house and a car and everything else so I could focus on my college career, and it’s true. And maybe I was a little selfish and took that for granted, but it was still hard. I felt small there, like my life wasn’t my own. You encouraged me to take it back, just like my relatives kept telling me. Thank you for encouraging me to do that. I am not enough, though, and a lot of people would be better off if they never met me. Sometimes, I think you’re one of them. At least this way, I wouldn’t have hurt you like this. Thank you for loving me as hard as you did. You were my peace. I’m sorry, honey. I love you and will look for you in the next life. 

Dad,