Posted in Edwina says

Breathe me back to life.

I blankly think while I’m sinking, the destroyed me wondering if I reach for you now will it be okay? Or do I make a straight slit and end it. It’ll stop the crushing pain in my chest. My choice to stop myself in that millisecond isn’t working. I am not that strong anymore. I have become careless, my guard is down. I cannot protect my mind from the harm I’ll cause. My blood is gushing, the thrive is getting stronger with every second to flow out. Do I do it? Will it make things better? It’ll stop, I guess. Everything will slowly go blur, then dark, a gentle rush of memory lane and stand still. I’ll know if there is an after-life. I was always curious of what after-life will look like. I cannot focus. I want to run. I want run very fast. I want to fall and hurt myself so bad that this pain cuts through my internal pain. I can feel tears gushing through my eyes but I don’t sense it anymore. I’m not hungry, I’m not angry. I’m just sad. I feel useless. I never thought I could feel inadequate and probably that’s why they say never say never. I was so full of myself. So powerful so strong and no one could destroy me. But this man happened and I fell in love and I fell apart. Love shouldn’t be so difficult. I have done it, everything I have and I didn’t lose myself while I was feeling it. But things changed. Jealously, insecurity changed it. I’m oblivious to this because I always believed, I believed blindly. I know how I feel, how gullible and destructive I am becoming. I will destroy myself with sadness, pain and I will hurt a lot of them in this process. I am aware of it. I will do it anyway. That is my solution to make me feel better. Pain cuts pain and I’ll hurt myself even further. I’m hurt. I need a friend to get out of this. But I won’t call them. I know I am not alone in this. But I can’t choose any better.

I’m young and I’m stupid. But I probably won’t even give myself a chance to be older and wiser.

I’m a disaster; it’s reached the boiling point. I’m hurt and my chest pains. I can’t breathe and I can’t do anything about it. I’m trying to escape it. The knife looks peaceful on my skin. Should I do it? Just one quick slit and it’ll get better, right?

It is my millisecond to choose.

So I chose to sit this one down and think. Think it all over again.

Tears didn’t shy away from dropping and I sat there thinking. I was somewhere calm and proud of myself that I chose better, that I didn’t do it. It was difficult. But I’m here sitting, silently weeping, hoping for this night to just end.

It’ll get better.




My alter ego that spills chaos on paper.

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