Any post titled with the term ‘confessions’ is a continuation of this post. It’s been a downer of a week—one of the worst ones I’ve had in a while. I’ve been toying with the idea of suicide on and off. It’s hard to keep moving forward sometimes. The few things keeping me together are work, constantly writing journal entries, my ‘memory’ Spotify playlist, and the Toast Crew. My friends and girlfriend are supportive and want to help, but I don’t want to burden them with my feelings. After all, it’s my life and they shouldn’t try and help. I’m alone on this journey.
(This was a drafted message I planned on sending to a good friend of mine. Also reads this blog)
First: I’m okay. I’m not planning on doing anything stupid.
i can’t tell you how many times i’ve wanted to end my life over these past decade. The things that stop me from ending it all is mostly external. I can’t imagine what it would do to my grandma and family. Everyone but my dad would get hit the hardest. My cousin and I share a special bond and that doesn’t come automatically. We’ve spent a lot of time talking and we understand each other deeply. I don’t want to think about how you would feel if I killed myself. Sometimes I think it would be best if I just disappeared and ghosted everyone so y’all would forget about me and stop wondering where I would go/what im doing.
I don’t dare bring it up to C1 (since his dad is close with my dad and is a psychologist) and I don’t think C2 knows–i’ve never explicitly told him. I’ve thought about seeking mental care, but that’s a story i need to tell you in person. My dad found out about how I felt back in 2012 and every now and then when we doing something dangerous, he’ll bring up that memory and try to make sure i’m not having those thoughts. But he does it in a way of mocking like “what are you gonna do—drive straight into the wall? “I can’t hold on any longer….blah blah blah”. It hurts so much when he does that, but it’s something i deal with right now. I loved attending and living at college because it gave me the option of living away from home. My dad would tell me he missed me, but I was happy to be away (most of the time). But when I came home, we’d be good for a few weeks until the mocking came back.
I’m labeled as ‘uncoachable’ by my dad because I refuse to listen. I refuse to listen because when he yells at me, criticizes me, etc., I just want to hear nothing. Every day is a negative journey at home until I can get to my room, turn on my computer, study, play video games, and hang out with my mom and dog. I feel awkward when I’m alone with my dad. I deny him whenever he tells me loves me or is proud of me. I can’t understand why he says these things when his actions seem so backwards. Every time I hear from him, I feel a hole in my chest or a rock in my stomach.
College was easy. Life is hard. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about suicide at least once. Doesn’t have to be anything concrete (lol), just the thought of disappearing so no one would remember me. I don’t want anyone to worry about me so I tell them I’m doing well. That nothing is going wrong, and everything is fine. I’m on track to pass the GMAT and make it into graduate school. That I have wonderful friends and want to get married. When in reality, the fantasy of ending it all creeps into my mind every night before I go to sleep, or every morning when I wake up (or both).
I made a promise to BT that I would never hurt myself. I don’t want to break that promise. Would I be forgotten?
I’m crying at work. I’m in a lot of pain, but it’s something i need to sort out myself.