The Suicide Letter I Never Sent But Still Think About

In our lives, we crave for the short moments of happiness where we get to pretend that nothing is wrong with us.

For years, I’ve searched for those short moments and invested so much energy to make them last.

I know now that they never do.

I found most of those short moments in people. They made happiness so convincing. They even loved me, cared for me, and supported me, but where are they now?

It’s so ironic that the same people who were there to make me laugh weren’t there when I was falling apart.

To this day, I still wonder why they abandoned me, like I was nothing to them.

Was there something wrong? Was I the problem? Was I too distant? Did I not do enough?

Even as I’ve moved on with my life, I can still recall the way people looked at me, like I wasn’t acceptable there.

I wanted to leave.

I still want to leave.

The pain doesn’t stop. It’s caged inside you like a pack of bloodthirsty hounds waiting to sink their teeth into you. You’re just waiting for it endlessly, anticipating the moment, counting every second, but that doesn’t seem to be enough.

You want to rip out the fear possessing you, you want to have it done – quick and easy, until there’s nothing left but peace.

There’s not a day I don’t think about life if I didn’t exist. There’s not a day I don’t stare at the taunting blade underneath my desk, making me wonder how deep do I have to cut until I fall asleep.

They tell me I should be strong. I am strong, I have always been strong, but until when? How long do I have to keep holding on?

I am so tired. Tired of pain, tired of loneliness, tired of my demons, and tired of fighting. I don’t want to hold on anymore.