My Truth: I Wanted To Die
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Última publicación dom, jul 24, 2016
Everyone has a truth. Their own truth. A truth they cannot run from. A truth they can't deny. A truth which is true down to it's very core. This is my truth.
I am Adwitiya. No more than a lad of 19 with aspirations swirling in my head of infamy and peace. I am no more than that. None above it. The one other thing that I am is emotional. Other than that I am none.
I should be sleeping as I am writing this. I have a job to do. A girl to tend to and care for. A passion to peruse and dreams to dream of and complete. I have deadlines set up by me to finish. I have targets set up by me to reach. Achievements to achieve. But here I am expressing my truth.
Listen carefully.
When I was in school, I was a lad who had none of the things I mentioned above. Other than emotion. No dreams and no aspiration. All my life was stuck in a loop which was looped with short term targets and none of the long term achievements aimed at. I was alone. I felt alone and sick and stranded. I felt as if I was lost in this labyrinth of suffering and would never make it out alive.
Today. As of right now.
25-07-16
02:15 hrs
A Monday.
I read a story.
A creepypasta. We all know what a creepypasta is. For those who don't, let me enlighten you with a dark part of the internet. Ever felt a deep urge to be scared? If you have and you are frequent with Google, you would have come across stories which are meant to scare you. Down to the core. I am a creator of such content but what I read today and as of now, has sent me to an ache which I forgot of and was cured of.
The name of the creepypasta is "Suicide Culture" and it has not scared me but sent me to an ache. A Spasmodic ache. It tells a story of a guy who is sad and meets a girl online. This girl tells him about this forum. And finally this forum posts encouragement to suicide. The lad refreshes the page and finds the girl, whom he has ever seen only once before in a photograph, dead.
My truth is not beautiful. My truth is
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Loneliness. Depression. Broken. Scared. Devastated. Hopeless. Mournful. Disheartening. Bleak. Joyless. Somber. I have no one. Depression and Loneliness are the only things I feel. My family tries to make me happy, but I just put on a fake smile and cry about it in my room. They act like everything is alright, but everything is not. They KNOW I was devastated about Mom's murder. They KNOW I was heartbroken about Dad's sickness that eventually killed him. That's all I've thought about. Devastation and heartbroken. Just because of those two things. Never in my life I have been this devastating. Dayton, Hayden, Angel, or Monica know how to make me truly happy. Not even my own siblings know how to make me show a real smile. Suicide is all I can think about day to day and I've almost died because of that. DEPRESSION IS A REAL THING. NO ONE KNOWS HOW I FEEL EVERYDAY. NO ONE CAN JUDGE OTHERS ABOUT DEPRESSION OR EVEN MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS A REAL THING. DEPRESSION HAS KILLED PEOPLE. EVERYONE IN MY LIFE JUDGES ME JUST BECAUSE I DON'T SMILE, LAUGH, HUG, OR DO ANYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO. I CUT MYSELF, I CRY, I YELL, I VENT, I PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE. Those are the things people are worried about me. "Go kill yourself and join your parents in hell." They say and I just shrug it off and find a private place to hide and cry it out. "I CAN'T DEAL WITH LIFE ANYMORE!!!!" I say and I use my sharp nails and cut myself then cry some more. A gun is buried within my arm for defense from my dad, but I use it in case I am tired of society. Then that's when I met the Host Club. They saw my sadness and made me a part of it to repay my debt for accidentally breaking a vase. I am now a Host for men to flatter them, but how can normal guys want me to be a Host when I wear lip earrings, eyeliner, chains, and have a gun in my arm? I'm the definition of Hell. Then he made me smile again, something that I thought I would never get back. Happiness.
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