I wish.
I wish death upon myself. It’s such a simple thing to say, “I want to die,” or “I want to kill myself.” Though when you break it down, there’s so many pieces, so many reasons, so many feelings. I’m going to break it down, and explore my suicidal thoughts, in hope to save myself emotionally to prevent future possible suicide. I don’t ask of anyone to read this, nor do I have an expectancies for care or concern from others. But, this is how i choose to help myself, please respect that.
I don’t wish death upon myself because I give up, or because I am tired, though life is very exhausting. I want to die, because I deserve it. I’m selfish, and I hurt people. I keep everything inside because every time I talk to someone about craving self harm, or feeling suicidal a bigger problem occurs, and I’m either in the way or making things worse. Or, I’m being a burden, or stopping someone else from talking about what they need to. As hard as that is to explain. I hate myself. I despise myself. I’m stupid as shit. I’m either a burden or a disappointment to every person in my life. I’m a let down, and I don’t deserve any of the things I have. I’m a fucken pig and a bitch.
I’m so small, I have no one anymore. I’m so little, nobody would even notice I was gone. I’m so insignificant, even the few people that would know would get over it in no time. Maybe they’d even feel a bit of relief, one of those feelings you never admit to, to have such a burden off their back.
I’ve been keeping everything to myself, with the exception of writing these…whatever they are on Tumblr, and today I cracked. I broke down. I wanted to die. I put Graedan through hell. I can’t take that guilt off my mind. I cut just twice, just getting started. That was when Graedan called back. Crying, begging me not to do it. I felt so guilty, I just wanted him to stop crying and stop hurting, I hated myself for doing that to him; but all at the same time, I just wanted to pick back up the razor blade. But I didn’t. I wish I had, still. But I didn’t. Because of him. I don’t know what I’d do without him. But I do know, I would probably already be dead. And I don’t know how to thank him for keeping me alive when part of me resents him for it..
