It all started with a friend. Well, maybe someone that’s more than just a friend. He, well, he is amazing. I swear he’s so smart, so kind, so caring – only if you’re ever lucky enough for him to care about you. He didn’t care about me though. And I guess finding that out, well, that was my breaking point. Because I was falling in love. Falling in love with him was the worst thing that I could let myself do, but at the same time it was the best. Long story short, my heart broke. I can’t say he broke it because he didn’t, I did. I cared for him, I let myself imagine this relationship that wasn’t there, I thought he loved me too, but he is to be blamed a little bit because he led me on sometimes, told me he cared, and other times he just shut me out of his life completely. Id like to think I know him, but I honestly don’t.
That day I finally knew where I stood with him, that he would rather do anything, than have a conversation with me. And I can’t say it didn’t hurt, a friend of mine told me to talk to him, tell him how upset I was, because he’s not a bad guy, and maybe I was just emotional. But I didn’t. I couldn’t after all, because how would you tell a guy that you cried for hours because you threw yourself at him and he blew you off for the millionth time. But that wasn’t what completely broke me. I know this is frowned upon, but I honestly was so upset, I felt like I don’t amount to anything, and what I did next proved to me that I didn’t amount to anything. I threw myself at this other guy, not a stranger, not a friend, but someone who also blew me off. And I gave up.
I went back to my room, broken, I stripped down everything I was wearing, and I looked at who I am. I looked at my stomach, and how fat I felt in this body. I looked at my stretchmarks, and wished I could tear off my skin, I looked at my face and I understood why no one wanted me. I went into the bathroom, I made myself vomit, but I didn’t feel better after. So I decided I’m going to take a shower, maybe it’ll help out. I cried so much in the shower, I bet if water would’ve cut off id still be covered in tears, enough tears to bathe in. I couldn’t take it anymore, I tried to think of reasons why I’m alive. Goals, things I want to do, things I’ve done well. I thought of a couple, but none that would convince me that killing myself tonight wasn’t the best decision. For it was the only decision that made sense.
I got out of the shower, I opened up my underwear drawer and pulled apart this layer I have, under that layer is a blade, one I used to use on myself some time ago, a place I thought I’d never visit again. I thought maybe I should try, try another way. I got my cigarette pack and lit one up. I smoked, and my mind went numb for a moment, then this pain in my chest kept increasing, it felt like people throwing rocks at my ribs, shooting guns in my heart, lighting a fire in my chest. That was that, I give up. Id rather suffer hellfire than stay a moment longer on this cruel earth.
I took the blade, and I cut. I didn’t cut deep enough, something was holding me back. Something is always holding me back. Today I walk with a bandage on my wrist, under my watch, wearing long sleeves, hoping you don’t call me again, but at the same time hoping you would, because I want to get over you, but I want you to care too. Maybe you were right, maybe all I’m trying to do is get your attention. But you asked me one thing, you asked me why am I trying to get your attention, and not someone else’s. I answered but you never heard me. It was because I love you. And I wish I didn’t.
If you have days like these, please, get help. Talk to a friend. Do something, atleast so you wouldn’t have to walk with your head down, holding your wrist when someone passes by because you don’t want anyone to ask any questions. Get help, because the last thing I wish anyone to be, is to be like me.