You know what's weird about having suicidal thoughts as a kid, is that I don't really remember a "before". Since I was eight I've thought I was a waste of space and everyone's life would be better without me in it.
That's ten years and I can't think how life would be if I actually enjoyed being here. If the slightest stress or inconvenience didn't get me thinking of different ways to off myself.
Sometimes I think i won't feel this way if I could just get out of this house this state maybe if I left this all my suicidal thoughts would stay behind. And that's when I begin to feel trapped. In this room, in this house and I need air.
The walls are surrounding me, closing in and I need to escape. So I escape into music and self medication, but eventually the ***** and **** wears off and the music dies down and I am back between these four walls gasping for air.
Struggling to take a breath I reach out my hand hoping for someone to be there to grab my hand and pull me back from the brink but all I feel is empty space I need no reminders that I am alone.
On the edge I stand between the end and tomorrow occasionally a gust of wind comes causing my to teeter closer to the end, but sometimes I find a string unintentionally left behind that I use to pull myself up but always in-between.
I am never here nor there nor this nor that. But forever in-between
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
You know what's weird about having suicidal thoughts as a kid, is that I don't really remember a "before". Since I was eight I've thought I was a waste of space and everyone's life would be better without me in it.
That's ten years and I can't think how life would be if I actually enjoyed being here. If the slightest stress or inconvenience didn't get me thinking of different ways to off myself.
Sometimes I think i won't feel this way if I could just get out of this house this state maybe if I left this all my suicidal thoughts would stay behind. And that's when I begin to feel trapped. In this room, in this house and I need air.
The walls are surrounding me, closing in and I need to escape. So I escape into music and self medication, but eventually the ***** and **** wears off and the music dies down and I am back between these four walls gasping for air.
Struggling to take a breath I reach out my hand hoping for someone to be there to grab my hand and pull me back from the brink but all I feel is empty space I need no reminders that I am alone.
On the edge I stand between the end and tomorrow occasionally a gust of wind comes causing my to teeter closer to the end, but sometimes I find a string unintentionally left behind that I use to pull myself up but always in-between.
I am never here nor there nor this nor that. But forever in-between
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