I was locked in those 4 walls with a force shirt without knowing how to get out of there, I knew I was not crazy. I knew that they had locked me there so I would not have to deal with me. I have to find a way out, I can not allow them to continue supplying me with those painkillers that really take me to a state of extreme madness, I have to find a way out of here! But ... I do not know if I really deserve to be here, I have not been a good son, good friend. Not even a good person ... Do I really deserve this? I ask that question at least 4 times a day. I have dealt with this for 8 years. taking antidepressants for 3 years, that does not calm me down.
What should really calm me down is happiness or being less unhappy. But none of that has happened. The human being really comes to this life. For what? It is not supposed that life is happiness and joys ... If so, then because some people only suffer and commit suicide for it. I do not know what to think. Life exhausts me, just thinking about everything that happens around it.
- A mother who never wanted me
- A father who never cared about you.
- Friends who are but are not
- And you, you who do not serve at all, because they have been responsible for you to think of yourself.
In the end you stayed with the family that you least expected, an aunt, an aunt who when you have the opportunity to get things in your face, make you feel less. When he has the opportunity to do all that, he does not waste it ... I have not had a very good childhood. In elementary school I was the easy target for those who did bullying, in high school or say ... Today I am 21 years old, in college I try to look as happy as possible. I do not have time to get attention and deal with "friends" who "worry about me" because what I want least is that they know about me.
Since I have memory I have suffered from depression, before I was labeled as a master and even satanic. Emo because? Because I have not had a life like many? o Why did not I have the support of my parents when I needed them the most? Maybe that's why I'm "emo" or whatever you want to call it, I do not consider myself that. I'm not against it either. As I said before, for depression they had sent me medicines, medicines that I realized were not good for anything ... That the only thing they did was to sink me more, my aunt said it was the best thing. Because the problem ... was me and so I had believed.
Always try to give the best of me, so that they accept me, so that at least the person who "took care of me" would feel proud and thus be able to give me a motivation ... but everything I did was bad for them. While I felt that I was doing things well, for them that was out of place, instead of motivating me to continue, they only sank me, I sank ... I felt that I was not well, I received more offensive words, more hits ... more of the same.
One day I felt I could not anymore and I wanted to do it, I wanted to die, with the scalpel in my hand, I made a small cut on the wrist and when I did I felt a rage invade me and I started to cut myself without stopping and I felt the rage It was going, it was falling along with the blood that was spilling on the floor. but I was calmer, I felt that ... I could, I could stay sane without having to keep hurting people and doing things right. Because that's how I felt, I felt that I was doing some harm to them, and that I was the problem.
And so the years went by, I left the pills and took my revenge on myself, nobody even noticed the cuts on my wrists: And that was good, the least I wanted was for someone to know. In all this time that has happened I met good people who were my "friends" but those friends .. I did not let them know me completely. I was afraid that if they knew certain things about me they would stop seeing me as a friend and label me as a weirdo.
I was so tired of everything, so much so that from a time here I stop being interested in everything, absolutely everything. Even how they treated me, the cuts, my depression, the studies. Everything and everyone. And I made myself known, to know how I really was. I changed career and began to study what I wanted, but not what they wanted. to work where I liked, and to put what I liked, to listen to music which I knew was not to their liking but for me yes. I felt good about myself. But still I kept hearing bad things about me. insults, blows, bad treatment. But I did not care since that had always been the case.
At times I was fine, with my friends. I looked happier being with them. Those moments that I spent with them were very important to me. And I treasured them, I kept them in a corner of my mind, in the nights ... when a fucking day ended. I sank into my damn depression, and I cried. I cried because I knew that this was not right, Cut me deeper than before, that they treated me badly. I knew that this was not life. And I wanted to get out of it. I wanted to die, that's what I needed ... and I grabbed the scalpel and I went slowly through where my veins were thinking all my life. He had been around for 25 minutes like this, thinking about everything. I knew, at this moment I knew for the first time in all my existence that the problem was not me, because I gave my best. And I knew that dying was not the right thing to do. I knew that coming out of these 4 walls, this insane asylum, those pills, those people, and these cuts. There was my happiness. I knew that if I left this house and towards my life on my own I would have the happiness that I always wanted, and I decided to give me those encouraging words and that support to myself, I knew that getting out of here was not going to be easy, because despite that they treated me badly, they would not let me go, they wanted to sink me. But me, I was going to leave here ...
But I still felt so bad, so lonely, so sad in that insane asylum. That when I was going to take two capsules of those anti depressants, my phone rang. He was one of my friends ... I left my thoughts, and I realized that I was still in the madhouse, in those 4 walls. And I said to myself
-This will be the last time I feel less than the others and be unhappy.
I left my room to open the door to my friend, I did not say goodbye to anyone. I closed the door and left. in my mind the words resonated
"I will live, be free ... I will be happy"