|Clariyah|
I am a person of survival. But growing up that was not really my title. I was a dead soul who was screaming for revival, a young girl who became suicidal. I felt the hits and the kicks of society, that's probably the reason why I suffer from anxiety. I was never in the form of perfection so I became the best example of neglection. They called me names from fat bitch to white trash to other shit I won't say it's that bad. They called me up because they would always need a back up. They called me a slut and say that my family was jacked up. Everytime I logged in they would tell me dead threats, I was always on some other shit. Damn here we go again. I was already alone now I'm looking for a friend but ain't got one so here I am wishing it would end but it didn't. It never did. It was always something, everytime I felt good they would remind me I was nothing and everytime that I felt bad they couldn't help themselves but kick me and tore me all the fucking fights I had left in me. I had enough. I was so FUCKING done. I couldn't face all the drama so I decided to run. But you can't run forever, eventually you'll get tired so I just stared at the rope wishing my life would expire. I mean fuck it. If I am really nothing, then nobody would stop me from taking that rope and jumping. So I took it. Tied it around my little throat and preceded to jump. When my mom busted in the door I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to say. I saw the tears in her eyes and suddenly felt the pain go away. How could I be so selfish ? How could I think that I'm nothing when the person who gave me life obviously thought I was something ?
Pray for the people who never saw the light. Pray for the people who still cry at night.
And those people who think of my words like protection, think of them as the light when you fight depression.
Because I know what it's like, I've been here before. And for every closed room, I'm here to open a door.
I'm here to open a door.
