I don't know why I did it. Maybe to feel something. To feel among the depression, among the anxiety. To feel something besides the pain. Maybe, I wanted to feel alive again. To stop feeling nothing but coldness and utter emptiness. Maybe it was to stop the loneliness from taking over. Or to prevent those late night destructive thoughts from taking over. They whirl in your head for hours on repeat eagering you to stop it all. You can't quite them. They only scream louder. Telling you to end it all. The pain and suffering. But even what I did can't stop those thoughts. Self destructive thoughts are a curse of your own making. Maybe it was resentment mixed with jealousy blessed by anger. All those memories of longing for what i could not have. Things that i have lusted over but could not be spoken of. Meaningless things that if i thought i could obtain they would bring me joy. But joy does not live here in these chaotic thoughts . Perhaps it was another thing entirely. Maybe it was a cry for help. For somebody to stop the loneliness from seething into my ,soul and filling my mind at night. For someone else to notice the pain. For someone else to share in the suffering. For someone to prevent it. But noneone ever did and they never will. My mind will clutter with the thoughts. Its a never ending cycle. These thoughts will eat at your soul, at your character , until you don't even recognize who you are and will see a reflection of your past self. A meerless fleeting shadow. Maybe i did it for the shadow to diassapear. It never will. It will cling on until every little piece has fallen. Until your morals are gone. Until you have utterly and completely given up hope. Hope a foreign word. Its suppose to be the light at the end. The thing worth fighting for. Hope is an empty promises. A dream to escape reality. An attempt to silence the thoughts. The thoughts do not stay silent they get louder. Maybe i did it to silence the thoughts.
