My Book of Random Stories

Sooner or Later

Pain.

I push the blade into my skin once.

Sadness.

I push the blade in again, deeper this time.

Suicidal thoughts.

Again.

I look down at my arms, tears streaming down my face. I clean my face and wounds, the sting of the alcohol swab is too familiar. I put my hoodie back on, pulling the sleeves down covering the fresh cuts.

I walk out of the bathroom and head to class. I sit down in the back of the class, not bothering to be discreet. It's not like they notice me anyway.

Pain...suicidal thoughts...sadness...and depression. Those are the things that consume me...not that anyone cares.

No one cares that I'm damaged.

No one cares that I hurt more and more every day.

No one cares that I cut.

No one cares that I have fallen into the void, unable to escape.

And no one will care when the void finally swallows me.

But that's ok because I learnt not to care either.

I don't care that I'm damaged.

I don't care that I hurt more and more every day.

I don't care that I cut.

I don't care that I have fallen into the void,unable to escape.

And I won't care when the void finally swallows me.

A lot of people think that depression is just feeling sad and wearing black clothes all the time. But they are wrong. Boy are they wrong. Depression may start with feeling sad all the time but slowly progresses to feeling tired all the time. And after a while that feeling of tiredness slowly turns into feeling numb. The numbness may start in your emotions but it will slowly spread across your whole body until you just can't feel anything, but that's not the worst part, the worst part is knowing that people can see you struggling to decide on whether it's worth living or not but they just let you sit there debating on how important your existence is.

I'm numb and I'm tired.

Tired of people pretending to care.

Tired of pretending that I'm ok.

Tired of hiding my tears behind a smile.

Tired of living.

Tired of getting hurt.

Tired of constantly being let down.

I spot the nerdy kid in the front row, listening intently to the teacher. I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair.

I scribble something in my diary, another thing that my stupid therapist thought would help with my "emotions".

I stop writing and look down at the black ink. "She tried to help me by becoming my friend but quickly gave up when she realised I have trust issues. So pathetic."

People always tell me that I wouldn't be sad if I made friends. But why waste my time making friends when they are just going to leave me sooner or later? I guess it's the same with suicide, everyone leaves the earth it's just matter of how and when...Sooner or later?