Dealing with things   Leave a comment

I talked about this a little bit in my last. I have lost someone to a situation that is out of my control. They are stuck in a position where they aren’t even allowed to talk to me. I don’t blame them it isn’t their fault but I’m not going to lie and say I am okay because I’m not how can I be? Someone I love is being ripped away from me and the worst part is he is stuck somewhere where he is miserable. I hope that he can be less miserable. I hope he does things that he loves to do and that things work out for him. I hope he doesn’t lose his passions even if he no longer has someone to do them with. I hope he finds happiness in the little thing and doesn’t lose his flame.

Now that that soppy part is over though it is time for what I wanted to write about. When one of my closest friends was talking me about all of this she said words that I didn’t understand how they could be true : “I am proud of you. You are handling this well.” She said this while I was sobbing. All I could respond with was “How the hell is this handling things well?” Then she asked me: “Have you cut yourself?”

“No”

She knows my past. She was the one that helped me through it. Not everyone has a suicide story but here is mine:

The stupid part about it is I don’t even remember why I wanted to do it. I remember the emotions though. I felt lost, sad, angry, and hopeless. I wrote a suicide note on my skin. In my mind, that would have made the biggest impact. That they would have had to read the suicide note off of my dead cold skin. That way maybe they would finally see how much pain I was in because no one ever noticed. And why would they have? I never sought help. I never told a soul. I was just sad all the time and I didn’t know why. I didn’t have a reason and that made me more sad and angry at myself. People had it worse then me. Way worse. What gave me the right to be sad?

And yet there I was sitting in a chair in my room the only cloths I was wearing was a suicide note with an exacto-knife to my wrist. I knew they wouldn’t find me for a while. I knew that if I cut deep enough that I would bleed out before anyone could or would find me. I was ready to do it. I had cut myself before just never deep. The scares have since faded but the memories will always be there. I stopped though. I don’t know why. But something made me stop. So instead I wrote a really angst filled poem (which I can’t find but if I ever do I will post it here) and I called my friend. She told me to come pick her up (she didn’t have her own car) and we were going to go get shakes at McDonald’s which is where we always go to talk. She just talked to me. It was late at night and she was there for me and that is all I needed. Just for someone to be there.

So yes in her mind that is me handling things well. Which I agree with. I am not in that place any more. From time to time, I will get sad for no reason and it will bug me but since that night I have never taken a knife to my wrist.

This is hard and it isn’t going to be easy to move on from but I will. I owe him that much. I will move on for him because that is what he wants from me. So this is where I start. Where I continue my life, imagining a future now that doesn’t involve him but still leaving a special place in my heart for him. And I can promise that I would welcome him back with open arms whether that has to be a friend or something more.

-An Extraordinary Nothingness

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Posted April 5, 2015 by Extraordinary Nothing in Uncategorized

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