I struggle to understand the difference I make in people lives.
When I look in the mirror, I see no one special.
Just someone ordinary, someone who blends in,
Someone who will easily be missed,
Someone who doesn't hold any importance to anyone.
So in my mind if I died, no one would ever notice.
It's only when I'm on the verge of taking my life,
That the truth begins to drawl in my focus,
And I begin to realize that my selfish act would do more than hurt people.
Not just as a momentary event, but forever.
So then I stop.
I sit in my corner, and as I'm shaking with fear,
I begin to cry because I truly don't want to hurt all the people whose lives I've impacted.
But then the next day, I feel the same as before.
I wake up feeling horrible and mentally sore,
And when I see myself In the mirror,
The same hateful thoughts come back into my head,
The same hateful thoughts that really want me dead.
And it's hard for me to realize what I did yesterday,
Until I'm back on the verge of taking my own life again.
It's a repeating cycle that never seems to end.
Maybe because to me, I see all the things I hate in myself,
And maybe others see all the things they love about me.
Or maybe I see myself for who I truly am, and they don't.
Or what if it's the opposite, and I don't see it, but they do.
I don't think it's something I'll ever understand.
