To The One Who Has Lived Before

v

to the one who hates herself

[TRIGGER WARNING. If you are sensitive towards the topics of death, self-harm, and suicide, please skip this chapter. This is your only warning.]

You wanted to reverse time.

You wanted to go back to the day you were born and stop time from carrying you out of your mother's womb. You wanted to go back to the day your mother met your father and prevent them from coming together. You wanted to go back to the day your ancestor came off the ship and landed on the shore of Jamaica. You wanted to condemn yourself to a moment in time and stop it from happening.

You wanted to erase yourself from existence.

You thought everyone's lives would be so much better without you. You thought it would be a favor to your family to jump off the balcony of that hotel. You thought no one would care if you ran away or went missing one day. You thought people would rather you not be around them. You thought you were nothing but a nuisance, a thorn in people's sides.

No one loves you. Why do you exist?

Why were you born?

Why are you afraid to die? Why are you afraid to kill yourself? Why don't you go through with it?

How can you have hope for a nonexistent future? How can you look forward when anger and sadness cover your eyes? How can you smile after being battered down by life?

You've already cut yourself. You swore you'd never do it again, but you know you deserve it. You've been your own judge, jury and executioner, and you've convicted yourself of failure. Your sentence was three bloody lashes on your hands, and you served weeks in a mental hell.

Now, you deserve the death penalty.

Why the hell were you born? Why are you here?

The cord that connected you to your mother at birth should've strangled you when you left her womb. Now that you've tasted life, you are afraid to die. You're a coward and a disgrace.

I look forward to the day you take your final breath.

the one who lived as a prisoner of her mind