When someone says they have nothing, they just say that! Everyone has something else: a warm bed, and candy instead of change money back at the supermarket, and their nose is still stuck on their face. What they really mean is that they feel like they are nothing. I don't know which one is worse, having nothing or being nothing, but those who have nothing else will still try to look for something, and once they feel they are nothing, there is only go downhill only.
Nothing is left of at least sympathy, because people only understand such real things. That's why there are practical examples like: "People don't even have food to eat", or "You're just bored, there are people more miserable in the world", although no one can name it. Us, mysterious characters are definitely more miserable than anyone, except for African children often seen on TV.
Those who are nothing but have other loving names such as cunning, blessed without knowing enjoyment or are just simply crazy. On behalf of these people, I would like to say always thank you for making us feel like 0 is always negative. We're not born in Africa, so we shouldn't be miserable? Now we know, suffering is a right. We were not allowed to choose the place and place we were born from, nor did we proactively choose misery. We are like that, and having other people suffer more does not make us less miserable. What is the difference with saying that we shouldn't be happy because there is definitely someone else who is happier?
So sometimes I wish I had cancer to let people see how sick I was.
That's not really the reason why I started cutting, but a large part of me cutting my limbs every day was to make myself look as sick as I thought. Hand slitting is not my first choice in self-harm. It started with me having uncontrollable anger, and I used to punch walls, smash my head, kick at anything that stumbles. Gradually I realized that I was relieved not because of kicking, but because twisting things on my body stretched out. The pain made my mind much more alert, and it also made my body sink to the same level with my tired head, so I was relaxed for a while. Done, the torture of self becomes many forms for many reasons, it becomes an addiction. I think I'm too fat so try to see if I can get some fat out. I was too nervous to take exams, so I wanted to prove to myself that nothing could be worse than a fainting spell in the bathroom at a blood loss, so exams are nothing to be afraid of. I looked in the mirror and I found this body so strange, why am I here, why am I me? I could not bear the many questions in my mind, so I tried to separate my soul from my body, crawling out and about where I should have been. Where, or how to return, I do not know, I just know for sure, affirm, resolute: I don't belong here.
I really like the story about the boy who cried wolf. The story is about a boy who often lies, or runs back to the village and cries "Wolf is coming", then laughs when the villagers run out to find that they have been fooled and there is no wolf at all. He did that three or four times, and one day when the real pack of wolves came and he cried out, no one came to the rescue, resulting in him being eaten by wolves.
I always thought I would die like that.
How many prescriptions, how many hospital bills, how many years have I lived in the utter dislike of myself and I still think I am okay, I just believe I think too much. Every time I call out for help, I feel like I'm bothering people and I'd rather sit here suffering from seizures, cold sweat than phone calls to coffee. I am a burden. I am a burden too large for those around me and always ask myself, "Why are they still hanging out with me?" Thanks to my friends, I offered my hand, my back, and everything that I could help, to them. Thank you, my friends, I just thought, oh my god, let me apologize, let me apologize, I will have to compensate for everything you are about to do for me. It was a selfish way, a way to make me relax, so that I could feel that I was at least somewhat helpful.
The only difference between me and the shepherd boy, is that every time I say, "I'm" I actually believe I would die. I went crazy and broke down at least three times a week, but none of them were any better. I went crazy and broke down at least three times a week, but none of them were any better. You think you have known it for a long time? No, it is not. Depression is good at that. People often say "Everything will get better", and yes, it is better, it's not always bad. But it gets better and it gets worse, and it gets worse, and the worst times are the best. You can never get used to that feeling of abyss, even though you know it may be bright tomorrow. The wicked thing is like a cloud covering the sunny day, even though there is no rain, it is still dark.
Tomorrow will be a new day. OK, so what?
Tuan Jun once called my case: "It's always the last time."
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Lỗi - Error 404 English Translation
Non-Fiction"Finally, my autobiography book, Error 404 is out, after 2 years of work. It actually took me only 6 months to write 99% of the book, but couldn't write the ending for a long, long time. I wrote a book about a child who was sexually abused, unhappy...
