For a long time, I felt as though I had no right to sorrow, no excuse for it. So I tried to hide it. But sorrow is one of those things that refuse to stay hidden. And so, after some time, it demanded to be heard, to be worn.
I’m turning 25 on the 10th of November (yay mid-twenties/ 😦 old age) and all I can think about is how far I’ve come in the past year. From October to December last year, I was mostly depressed and suicidal. I planned to kill myself the day I turned 24, then jettisoned the idea… but I actively tried to do it in December. So, in memory of that, I’m going to start with some of the dark notes I wrote then, and over the next few days, move into the light.
I’ve come a long way and I’m proud of myself and the progress I’ve made in the past year.
Stop fighting it. Allow the darkness in. Why did you think you could have happy? Let’s face it, it wasn’t made for your kind. Your kind wasn’t made to be. Whole.
It’s just a matter of time. No matter how much you try to fool yourself. How much you try to convince yourself that you can cheat the order of things. Happy wasn’t made for you. See how your feet walk towards destruct. Because it is what they were made for. To roam. And then to be no more. What makes you think you can cheat the order? It is all written, you know.
Something happens when you need people who don’t need you. Who don’t want to need you. When your broken mind needs people who can’t be there. Won’t be there. All you’re left with is a broken heart. And soul.
Then, you get tired. So tired you can’t cry for help any longer. And you know what you have to do. Your broken parts know that they need rest. Earth rest. You should go without saying goodbye.
Should never have lived so long. No one can say you didn’t try. 23 years is a long time in darkness. No. Wait till the day it’s rounded up. 24. No one will say you didn’t try. See, they won’t care that you’re gone. The world has its own problems.
December 2012 (Before the meds)
You’re sitting on the cold tiled floor of a hotel room in a strange town, crying. You’ve finally figured out why you came here; it wasn’t for solitude as you thought. It was because you were running from the loneliness. Except it is here too and digging its claws into you so deep at the moment that there’s nothing you can do but cry. You had a good day. A great one in fact. But it was waiting for you in your hotel room, the loneliness. And all of the distractions won’t work this time.
You look up. you’re disappointed that there is no ceiling fan. You wonder if you’d really do it if there was one. If you’d hang yourself. You’re not sure. You wipe your eyes with the white hotel duvet. You see the mascara stain and do it again. I’m confused. No, I’m not confused. I’m tired. Why won’t I die? In my sleep or something. Please. Please just let it all be over. Please.
December 2012 (Few days before the attempt)
Sometimes, dying is the ultimate act of unselfishness. Am I the only one who gets this? You outlive your usefulness when you start to hurt the ones you love. You start to die inside already. You might as well finish the act, lest you take them with you.
December 2012 (The night before the attempt)
But if someone were to say, “this is how you broke me,” we wouldn’t accept it, wouldn’t take the responsibility. But we never know the ways in which we break people… Not till we break the ones who are like Humpty; the ones who refuse to be put together again. Even then, we may not know. Especially when we break ourselves.
All through this year, I’ve been on a journey to finding peace, stability and even joy. I still have my ups and downs — I probably always will, but I’m happy about the place I am right now.