The other day, I couldn't breathe. My hands were shaking, and it felt as if my throat had closed up. I was screaming, but there was no sound. The voices in my head didn't stop. Calling me names. "Stop acting, you don't have anxiety." And it's true I don't. Or I think I don't. I don't want to cause my dad to pay for a psychiatric visit, cause that's money. And we have enough problems without me having a mental disorder.
But while those voices heckled me,all I could think was
Kill me, kill me, kill me.
The other day, my father was telling me about my grades. He told me that everyone was waiting for me to go to college. That I need to get off of probation and finish school, or else I'll be left behind. And while he was talking, tears came to my eyes. And all I could think was
Kill me, kill me, kill me.
Sometimes I think of taking my own life. It happens when I'm cutting fat off of Chicken, and I accidentally slice myself with the knife. It happens when I have to give the dogs their medicine and accidentally stick myself with the needle. It happens when I'm in class, when I'm with friends, when I'm just about to sleep. And all I can think is
I can kill myself. Kill me, Kill me.
I'm ignored a lot. My parents, are the normal over expecting parents. My siblings, treat me as if I'm more of a friend who lives with them rather than their little sister. I have a wonderful boyfriend, who knows nothing I have just typed. Because if he knew, he would tell my parents. And They would be disappointed in me.
So when telling someone seems like the best option, I take a shower. I take a lot of showers. Because I don't want people to worry about me. I don't want people to worry that if a car was speeding down the street and I was standing in the middle of the street that I wouldn't move. I don't want them to worry that if Ihad suddenly "accidentally" cut myself while cleaning chicken that I wouldn't tell anyone until it was too late. I don't want them worrying that if a stray bullet hit me in my leg, that I wouldn't call the police until I figure, hey they can't save me now.
I don't want them to worry that one day, I'll have the energy to do it. That I will take all the pills in our medicine cabinet. Or cut myself too deep. Or hang myself. Or drown myself.
I don't want them worrying about this little voice in my head. Saying,
Kill me, kill me, kill me.
I can kill myself. Do it. Kill me, kill me.
YOU ARE READING
Little Infinities
Non-Fiction"No one told me, That love was something to be afraid of. Now look at me; Afraid to get my heart broken After one encounter With the angel-disguised sin. " c.w A collection of poems, dreams, thoughts and short stories.
