I was cleaning my room this morning and found this. It's my suicide letter from six years ago along with a blade that I used almost every day. I was fifteen or sixteen and it was probably one of the darkest days of my life (mentally). Inside the box were letters I wrote to myself whenever I'm in a verge of a mental breakdown, when I get panic attacks at school, when I can't sleep for days because my head was too loud, when I have so much hate inside me and whenever I feel like a total waste of space.
Just by looking at most of the papers, you could tell that it was written down with anger or sadness. Some were torn because I held the pen too hard, some had hints of tears that dried out, some had coffee stains from the sleepless nights, some of my penmanship came off as harsh or unforgiving, and others are kept so neatly with a thought that I wanted it to be read by someone so that they'll understand my pain; a cruel way of thinking.
The point is, that was years ago and the young and naive girl who wrote that had no idea how much more harder it'll be when she grows up. The struggles and emotions she'll encounter soon after will be a hundred times bigger.
At the time she keeps looking for ways to end it, now I'm looking for ways to pay the bills. She was there hating her self and I'm here struggling to look decent for a trip to the supermarket. She was surrounded by so many people who care but she still felt lonely, while I try to free mu schedule so that me and my only bestfriend could grab some coffee for a few hours. She wanted to get away from her parents because they could never understand, while I try to persuade my mom to cook my favorite dish yet we still fought this morning. She feels like there's so much time and she's just floating around it because she has no dreams, and here I am wasting my time trying to get some sleep because I still want to dream.
I'll ever promise that girl a perfect life when she gets older, because that's just not possible. We don't always end up the way we pictured it and that's okay. I've learned to accept what I have and who I am, all while trying to be a better person as each day passes.
If she stopped there, she'll never see how beautiful and flawed this life is. It's a constant change and a turbulent flight. Some nights are peaceful while others drown in tears. Some days are productive while some are uneventful. But the good mixed with the bad brings out the beauty within this existence.
Yes, I still think of disappearing sometimes, but I'm learning not to cut myself whenever I feel like the world is against me. I'm learning to be braver, kind and honest. I'm learning to forgive myself from all the things I didn't become.
Years have passed and it's crazy how fast time came and eventually left.
To you who's reading this, I hope you're healing too. I hope you're doing better. And if all you ever did today was breathe or just getting through another day, it's okay.
You'll be okay.
