#tw sucide mention
People like me didn’t feature in the stories I was told growing up. Felt as if I didn’t exist. Even if there were characters like me, they were Hall of Mirrors distortions that made me feel like I didn’t want to exist. I had a go at ending my existence back then. But I was as good at suicide as I was at physics, so I lived and learnt. It’s painful to be invisible in other people’s stories, but there is a sliver of liberation. You can tell your own story. You can author your own life. There’s no script to stick to, which is fucking terrifying. And quite exciting. And fucking terrifying.
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Do you ever get the feeling it’s all not worth it.
Every day. Every minuet. Tearing you down.
But then you remember the smallest detail, something that makes you pause. Something that makes you think.
This could all be worth something. Someday
I just wish that day would hurry up
