30 Day Writing Challenge (JUNE 2013)

Day 23

A time where I thought of ending my own life... This is kind of really deep, probably the deepest this thing has been in my opinion. It's a bit... Yeah. It's just so damn personal. I don't really know man, I would like to say that it was a long time ago, but if I really think of it... it wasn't. Things just started to get better. And I've never tried to end my own life, that I can tell you. I think about it, but the idea of what it could do to some people if I die... it scares me. I think that I'm okay with it, but at the same time because I'm so young there is so much out there that I really want to see. Not to mention people that I want to make sure that are okay and well. I don't think I can just leave them if they aren't.

But a time I thought of ending my own life... Well I have thought about it a bunch, and it was in the years before grade eight. I think that's what bothers me - is that through out my whole life there was something wrong with me. When I was a little kid I thought about things that were probably to deep for my age. I thought about the meaning of life, I questioned its purpose, I questioned death, the after-death, and the idea of there ever being something after death. I questioned the breaths we'd take, the days we wake, I questioned growing, I questioned whether or not that this was just a dream, and someone would wake up and there never was a me that existed. That it was all in someone's life. I felt like I had no purpose my whole life; like I was just another body put to things that I didn't want to do and the every day things that every one does. I didn't find a purpose in anything, I was always just so skeptical, asking questions in my head because I didn't want my kindergarten teacher to think I was weird, I didn't want my parents to look at me like I was an alien. I was just so damn lost all the time. I still question things all the time. I question everything and wonder what its purpose is. But I'm not sad, I'm not angry. I get angry but it soon subsides because I learned to handle it. I'm mostly empty, but at least it's an empty that doesn't make me think negatively. I'm empty, but I accept it. I'm content with life because it's better, and I'm happy that things have improved, and I appreciate how the people around me have improved for themselves and others. I am empty, but I am also at peace with things. Because I am young, and things have yet to come my way - good and bad.

I don't think, however, I actually thought about ending my life until grade 6. Which lasted up to grade 8. Grade 8 was when things started to turn around a bit and the thoughts became less often.

It's hard explaining the things that went on, I'd rather not give to much away. I still am very aware that this is my life, but even though it is mine people have played a part in it and altered me in good and bad ways. Being so, I'd rather not mention much names, because I know that if I talk about them you will think that they are still the same. But I can promise you that it has changed very much, the people who put me through a hard time - and to my anger, they have turned a blind eye towards it... well they have changed. They are no longer, well they're much better then the mess they were in, let's just say that. I give them props, but if they ever do something like what happened to me I won't hesitate to make sure they are living in hell. I gave a second chance at my expense, and I don't think that should be taken for granted.

It's hard recalling the times that I thought about it... there were just so many. So many times where things were getting to bad, where the fights were constant and harsh. The anger and the tension filled my very life with everything. It was horrible, I never want to go back to it. It's made me stronger, yes, but I would never go back. One time is enough, and the memories haunt me. I do remember, and will remember forever because no one ever forgets their childhood.

There was however this one time when I was hurt, angry - that time they were digging deep. Blowing me where things shouldn't even have happened. I was a mess. I was in the woods. I just... I just broke. I broke down and screamed at the top of my lungs, I screamed and I was in a blind rage. I ended up just sitting there with my eyes closed. I had wrecked things, broke things, kicked and punched. I was sitting there, the tears were no longer flowing. The pain inside me was to much to bare. I didn't exactly know how to get rid of it. I just kind of let it go, and when it turned off, well it turned off. But that time, it didn't. Tears started to flow again as I began to wonder what it would be like... to die right there. To die and have someone find me days from then. I wondered if anyone would notice. I wondered, and wondered... but like every time I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not because I was scared of death, but because I was scared of what would happen to my brother. He was so young, and I couldn't let anything happen. Maybe I would be dead and it wouldn't have mattered, but I would have died knowing he wouldn't be okay. And I wasn't okay with that. So like every time before I picked myself up, berried the pain and went home.

That's that story.....

Vote and/or comment if you would like to say something or found you liked it. Thanks for reading... and sorry for any spelling/grammar errors once again.