I'm ready

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 29, 2016

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Submitted: August 29, 2016





I never thought I'd make it to my 18th birthday. And to be honest, I stopped planing my future when I was 9. The exception was a plan called 'How to leave this world without making my dad cry?' . I never fully figured it out, though.

 When I was 9 years old, I felt my heart sinking so deep that I couldn't hear my heartbeats anymore. 

When I was 10,  my wrists met something called ''razor blades'' and the blood which started dripping on my family bathroom's floor made me hear my heartbeats again.

A period between my 11th and 13th birthday still remains fuzzily  and all I can discerne is my mother's angry face and my father's tired eyes.

Year 13. I mastered my cutting so well that I could cut deep enough to see my vein and decide whether I want to go to school tomorrow or not. Every day was a reality show whose prize is an unused razor blade waiting to connect last week's clumsy cuts.

13 and a half. My sister has cancer.

14. She's losing the battle. So am I. I stopped looking myself at the mirror because I'm afraid of ghosts.

14 and 7 months. Her coffin is white and pure like a child's heart before life happens and takes away it's ability to appreciate things invisible to eyes.

15. Cutting isn't enough anymore. I wonder how my coffin will look like. Daddy, please don't cry when I decide not to go to school anymore. 

16. Mom and dad don't talk to me anymore. My sister does, though. Why are they so mad?

 16 and half. My heart stopped beating last night, I woke up in ER attached to three machines providing me enough life to go back to school next week. My parent are crying in the hallway. I feel so alone. Why am I doing this to myself? I need help. 2 weeks after ER I'm sent to the mental hospital and I don't know whether I should cry or laugh and at this point, I don't even care. First week in my new home. I honestly don't know. All I remember is a great amount of pills bringing me back to reality I hated so much. 

Age 17. It's been five months of recovery and now I realise that going up is by far worse that rapidly going down.

18th birthday party. I smiled for the first time in nearly 10 years. After I smiled, I cried for nearly 30 minutes because holy fuck I forgot what it feels like to be happy.


I am smiling more often than I'm not. I'm talking to my parents. Dad's eyes are not so tired anymore.  I visited my sister's grave without seeing death standing there eagerly wanting my soul.  I am not afraid to hold a knife anymore. I actually wake up thinking  'Hmm,how can I spend my day today?'.  I'm going to college  in less than a month. Dad is not afraid anymore. I asked him why. He answered because he knows that now I'm ready to learn more about everything that tried to stop me from being a student of my own life.




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