Drowning

Drowning

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing26m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, May 2, 2022
I hate speaking, always have. I found comfort in knowing that I alone will be the only one to hear my thoughts. Sometimes I wish I was invisible to the world. My wish is only half true, no one notices my silence or that I am present at all. They do not care enough to do so. A lot of times I ponder about how my life would be different if I were to speak. Would anyone care? The answer was no. Me, myself, and I were practically non existent, I am a ghost to many. Most of the time I fill the deafening silence that can be too much to bear on occasion with music. Loud music, ironic considering I live my life in quiet. My headphones are enough to keep me awake. Even when I wish not to. I had been born a quiet child, always was. I never felt the need to talk , considering there wasn't anyone to talk to. Lately I felt as if I died no one would cry. No one would write a memorial on how I was a gift to this cruel world. How I didn't deserve to get taken away so young. They wouldn't notice if I was gone. Just another life that somehow took part in their own. Stranger or not. Yet I didn't mind. Maybe because my sanity string was getting thin or I simply couldn't find it in me to care. I will die. I do not know when or how. But I will sooner or later. I know very little about why I am here almost nothing. What I do know is when it is my time, My one wish is for someone to look at the sunset and believe that it was the most beautiful one they had ever seen. That way I would be remembered. Even If they didn't know it was me.
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"There comes a point where you no longer care if there's a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You're just sick of the tunnel." - Who I am doesn't matter. How I got here doesn't matter. What matters now is I'm getting help, right? That's what they tell me here. They tell me that the road to recovery feels like a terrible butt fuck, but the fact that you're on the path to begin with, is all that matters. So as I sit in this circle of fuck ups, I realize just how different I am from them. I didn't attempt suicide because my mother was a crack addict who didn't want me. My father wasn't abusive. I didn't have a sibling die in a car accident. I was never really bullied either. I attempted suicide because, for the first time in years, I thought I had found something that could make me feel again... and after not feeling much at all for far too long, perhaps I went a bit overboard

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