Water-Lily
Enlightened
- Dec 26, 2020
- 1,182
I have taken to writing down a story of my suicidality as a means of coping with my unfortunate situation at home. While trying to remain somewhat anonymous I would like to post my stories here. If it isn't welcomed I will delete my post. Here is my introduction and first chapter.
Introduction:
My name is…Mary. I would put my real name but you can never be too vulnerable. This might be found in the hands of the wrong people and I would rather be safe. So, you might be wondering…why am I writing this? Well, it's to detail a story. A story of suicide. Story where I make ending my life its own goal. And in doing so, I discover something more. This is the story of how I learned to live.
Chapter 1: Dreary Night
"Fuck you dad, I mother fucking hate you!"
"Just shut up and stay in your room!"
This is my reality. At 23 years old my life should be filled with promise. Promise of independence. Promise of one day having my own job, spending time with friends and even having a boyfriend. But most of all, to grow. To grow and to live. Sadly, that isn't the case. Because right now I am trapped. Trapped in a family situation that ceases to get better. In a situation where I am forced into adulthood at a rate I shouldn't. It adds to my depression and BPD, both of which leave me in a highly vulnerable state of mine. A state that leaves me in a position to want to take my own life out of desperation. Sadly with no job, degree, or any way out I am to stay here till I can get out. Whenever that is. By this rate it might be a few more years. But…I can tough it out I think-
"Fuck you dad I hope you go die in a hole!"
Never mind. Thankfully I have plan B. Jesus, I am about to cry now. I don't want to die but I don't know what else to do. In a fucked up way, I know I have to do this. Because if not, I will suffer. So tonight is the night that I commit suicide
Introduction:
My name is…Mary. I would put my real name but you can never be too vulnerable. This might be found in the hands of the wrong people and I would rather be safe. So, you might be wondering…why am I writing this? Well, it's to detail a story. A story of suicide. Story where I make ending my life its own goal. And in doing so, I discover something more. This is the story of how I learned to live.
Chapter 1: Dreary Night
"Fuck you dad, I mother fucking hate you!"
"Just shut up and stay in your room!"
This is my reality. At 23 years old my life should be filled with promise. Promise of independence. Promise of one day having my own job, spending time with friends and even having a boyfriend. But most of all, to grow. To grow and to live. Sadly, that isn't the case. Because right now I am trapped. Trapped in a family situation that ceases to get better. In a situation where I am forced into adulthood at a rate I shouldn't. It adds to my depression and BPD, both of which leave me in a highly vulnerable state of mine. A state that leaves me in a position to want to take my own life out of desperation. Sadly with no job, degree, or any way out I am to stay here till I can get out. Whenever that is. By this rate it might be a few more years. But…I can tough it out I think-
"Fuck you dad I hope you go die in a hole!"
Never mind. Thankfully I have plan B. Jesus, I am about to cry now. I don't want to die but I don't know what else to do. In a fucked up way, I know I have to do this. Because if not, I will suffer. So tonight is the night that I commit suicide
