I went to take something from my sister and as I was walking away, I heard my mother tell my sister how big I am and they started talking about my size and I know it seems petty but that’s all it takes for me to want to skip dinner and cry. It’s not like skipping dinner will make me smaller but it fills me with some sort of satisfaction.
I still remember my first breakdown. Skin hot, eyes swollen, gasping on the floor feeling like every other breath would be my last. I didn’t mean to explode. Emotions pouring out like a pressurised bottle filled with water. Rivulets of tears running down my face like a river of flowing water. The lump in my throat growing until I was choking on my own skin, like my body wanted to kill me.
Maybe it should have.
I don’t remember how long I lay there. It could have been 5 minutes, 10, 15, an hour, who knows? What I do remember is how I picked myself up, wiped my tears, blew my nose and promised myself it would be my first and my last.
How foolish and naïve I was. Gullible enough to belive my own lie.
If you were to ask me, how many more times I allowed my emotions to control me, force me to my knees, with my eyes squeezed shut, like a sinner begging for forgiveness, and I did feel like a sinner, but the crimes to me were unknown, I would not be able to tell you.
I still remember the first time I was exposed to suicide personally. I wondered; why would someone take their own life? What could force you to commit such a crime. Who could have hurt you so badly?
But then I learnt. I learnt that their reason wouldn’t matter to me because to me that person’s problem may seem insignificant to me but to them, it was worth dying for. For me, it was the words shot at me from the mouths of classmates, family and even strangers. The words leaving their mouths like bullets firing out of a gun, striking its target, fast and true. Breaking down the walls of my confidence and self worth that took years to build. 13 to be exact. Broken down in the span of what, 3 days for the most. They left me vulnerable to the voice in my head. That’s the “who”. The one who hurts you the most. The one who haunts you day and night. Laying dormant in your mind until you are stripped bare, with no protection, no way of fighting. It eats you up alive, from the inside until you feel like an imposter in your own skin. Like a corpse, donning a body to fit in the smiling crowds and happy faces. And when you are are alone and you remove that mask, all you are left is feeling broken and lifeless. You then proceed to wishing someone would see how you’ve changed, how you have lost the twinkle in your eyes, that sparkle in your smile. Days begin blurring together, forming one big dark cloud. Time slips from your fingertips, taunting you, until you just need it to stop. You need the feelings to stop, the stares, the voices.
Everything.
Stop.
Please?
It is not death you crave but silence from the harsh tormenting voice, driving you to the point of madness. Outlining each and every one of your flaws from the scar on your face, to the stretch marks on your back, causing your lack of trust in people to the cuts on your thighs…
We all have a different story, some not as extreme and others ten times ass worse. But that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t feel what you feel. Your feelings are yours, don’t let anybody tell you how to feel.
I may not remember everything in my life, but I remember many of my firsts that began to destroy me. I remember how young I was, so little I understood.
I dont know which is better, knowing and understanding another’s pain or being oblivious to what would have been mine.
There nothing harder than having to pretend as though you’re not being eaten up inside when around people. I’m tired of it all, I just want to stay in my room alone forever but I can’t because my family still needs me. I just want it to stop.
