If I could talk to you one more time, I would ask you why. Why you left me when I was in my darkest moments. Why you see me going through my own personal hell and still don’t contact me. Why you see me wanting to harm myself and still don’t reach out to me. It’s like you never cared about me. It’s like when you told me that you loved me, you never really meant it. It’s like it was all about you. Like the relationship was only about you and your pain. Yes, you had pain, but I just needed support. I just needed someone to be there for me.
Imagine being 25-years-old, single, and forced to deal with the deaths of both of your parents. Imagine being in a place where you don’t have many friends. Imagine being from a family that hates you and says nothing nice to you, nonetheless doesn’t care about your grief. Imagine going through all of this and then losing all your close friends. Walking through this literally on your own. Imagine sitting in a doctor’s office, then a therapist’s office, and telling them that you want to kill yourself and that your plan of action was to take that knife you were using just the other day and slice your wrist wide open. Your plan is to die a slow death and when you are found, you would be lying on your kitchen floor soaked in your own blood. Imagine telling someone that. Imagine telling your therapist months later that you want to start cutting. Imagine that. Imagine telling the same therapist that you don’t care if your plane went down or your car crashed and secretly wish it did. Imagine that. Imagine going through all of these emotions and thoughts on your own. With no one to cry to. No one to talk to. Just imagine that and maybe then you will understand what I am truly going through. Imagine that and maybe you will understand why some days I just want to die.