Thoughts

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a personal story of an actual moment in my life not to long ago. These words are my feelings put into something I was able to understand at one of my darkest moments in life.

Submitted: August 31, 2016

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Submitted: August 31, 2016

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Have you ever stopped to think, really think? Thought about what would happen, what could happen, if only you had the nerve to do it. To finally end it all. The hurt, the pain, the disappointment, and hostility. How do you change a cycle that is never ending? Sometimes I think. I think pretty hard on this. It started as a suggestion he put in my mind. It’s something that I never thought I’d actually think I would do, but once in a while I think I’m going to take that step. 


Just three feet from the edge. Maybe then next time I can go one more. There. Now only two left. My heart is racing like a car. I have no where to hide. No where to run. My will is strong but not strong enough to stop my feet. Only one left. I love my family and friends. How can I tell them? How do I put in words what I want to say? I’ve had this before. Never this bad. My bare toes hang off the edge while the ocean plays beneath me. My chest is tight, it’s hard to breathe but it’s nothing compared to the emotions that drain out of me in their place I can feel release. I take two deep breaths. Watch the sun set over the horizon and think of good thoughts. I don’t want to feel anything but happiness. A prayer is spoken in my heart as I take that last step. Blanketed by the warm water I drift down. My hair wild around my face. I feel at peace. I release the last of my breath and allow the water to enter. I let the calm world below take me deeper and I let go. Drifting. I see it continue on course, knowing that they didn’t see me take my last steps. They’re to busy to notice.

A shadow steps up to the edge. I know it’s him. The one with the mind seed. I want to panic. My limbs are so light I can’t feel any thing. He looks down knowing I finally did it. He got his wish. The salt water pulls me in more, envelopes me in its darkness. My vision is blurred, I can no longer see.

What have I done? I wonder pushing back the tears. The pressure in my chest hurts. Why can’t I ask for help? Why is it impossible to speak with someone about this feeling? Before it was different. I had the tools to deal with it then. Here it would be harder. I’ve always had this. All my life I’ve had this feeling. I knew deep down but it took me getting this far and seeing how proud they were of me and how hostile they’ve been to see it. How could I have seen it sooner? Why couldn’t I see it before, why couldn’t they? I’m great at pretending that I’m fine, but I’m not. I fool myself into thinking that I can get better. That this is just a moment in time. I now know why I’ve done the things that I’ve done. The cigarettes, the sex, the booze, and even the weed. It’s to cope.

Why it’s so hard to speak about it I couldn’t tell you. It’s just as hard trying to spell it out here and maybe hopefully one day I’ll be able to get help and show someone. But I can’t trust anyone. I couldn’t tell people the first time until I had it behind me, but I never did get over this. It’s a disease. Like cancer going into remission. It’s not genetic like alcohol. It’s a disturbance in brain cells. The reason why I can’t handle emotions properly. Why I can sense that some people don’t want me around or that their uneasy with me around. I haven’t felt it this strongly in a long time. My past makes my present.


I hate feeling that itch. The itch to physically make myself feel different. The itch to scratch at the surface. Feeling like I can’t be in control of my life. I crave that need for an emotional release. My biggest question is why? Why do I feel like this? Why can’t I stop? Why can’t it be easier? It’s not just about being away during holidays, it’s about the reactions and hints you receive from those around you. Being 8,000-10,000 miles from home is hard, but it’s even harder when you are around those who care so little for you. I remember when the thought of a blade breaking my skin was enough to send my heart rate up in fear. I remember when I first gave in and accepted the bite of that same blade. I can still feel that feeling of being in a haze of bliss. I didn’t fear anything anymore. I welcomed the pain. I remember when I stopped. I remember panicking over and over. I remember when it was so bad I curled up and cried and fought with myself with the blade beside me. I remember speaking with him. How he talked me through it and led me to the light.


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