Alright, in my last post I stated that this will be about “my history with suicide, my obsession, and who/how I am now).” So, I’m just going to jump into it. Life was crashing for me, I was cutting myself in unusual places (thighs, upper arms, hips, etc.) and wishing I knew someone I could get drugs from thinking they might numb my pain. I was the kid who needed attention so badly, that I tried breaking my own bones. In fact, trying to break my own bones now-and-then started when I was 8 years old and stopped when I was 15. I never succeeded; however, I did get many twisted ankles and badly sprained wrists. I was my own worst nightmare and nobody knew it… Except me. I was a lost soul who had few friends, all of which had depression issues, we all had different reasons though. Suicide was a bittersweet thought to me, I dreamt of a heaven or even hell, because at that point I just wanted a new life. I was consistently asking “why me?” “Where’s god when I need someone, anyone” or “what did I do to deserve to be treated this way” this was all when I was roughly 14 years old. My hardest years were when I was around 13-14, the years that nearly nothing went right for me. I researched ways to kill myself, I told myself the world was better without me. I wrote a million suicide letters in my journal and hid it where nobody would unintentionally find it. I wanted to know things like which way was easiest, which was the least painful, etc. However, it wasn’t enough for me. I needed to know for myself, so I tried holding a knife to my throat… I couldn’t do it. Then, I tried drowning myself… But it was too painful. Eventually, I took a long, fairly soft, belt and wrapped it around my neck with several knots in it. This time was different. I wanted it to be too hard to chicken out of, I wasn’t going to be a pansy this time. Soon enough, I was gasping for air and the room was slowly darkening. That’s the moment everything changed for me, I seen something I had never seen. I didn’t see a God n’or a Demond, I seen a little girl who meant everything to me, my niece. Cheesy, right? She was like a sister to me and I thought of her like she was my own child even though she obviously wasn’t. I pictured a collage of things actually, like her crying when she found out and feeling the pain I felt the first time I lost someone relatively close to me. I pictured her in her 20’s looking gorgeous, but hiding a small amount of pain as if it were a scar on the back of her heart. I pictured how everyone would react, especially my friends who were depressed enough as it was. I seen it all, but within in the blink of a half-alive eye. At this point, I couldn’t do it; so, I tried getting the belt off my neck. It wasn’t untying, I couldn’t see the knots. Quickly, I rushed to my bathroom, my mirror reinforced how close to being over my life was at that point in time. The person looking at me was white as Casper, her lips were blue and she had dark purple bags under her eyes. This image slowed me down, but only for a moment, I was too determined to never see it again to let it be reality. I swiftly untied all the knots as I nearly fell down from gasping for air so badly. I was alive, but I didn’t want the memory to leave me… I Never wanted to do/see it again, so, like any other 13 year old… I took a pictures of the red lines on my neck. This was what made me be happy, knowing that I’m alive and even though I’m not a big deal, I realized I do serve a purpose. To my surprise, my mother found the picture in an album off my camera. Her reaction sounded like this: “*gasp* Candice, come here” I looked at her unknowingly and replied “yeah?” She looked back getting more angry and said “look at this picture! Is that your sister? God damn it, I bet her boyfriend did this to her. That looks like her hair.” I shyly admitted that it was a picture of me. This was when she snapped, the way no loving mother should, looked me in the eyes and said something along the lines of “what the fuck, don’t take pictures like that, someone might get the wrong idea.” She still has no idea that she was the one with the wrong idea; actually, I’m sure she’s forgotten all about it by now.
I mentioned that I’d discuss what I’m obsessed with, but it must’ve slipped my mind. The only obsession of mine that I can think of, is music and art. I love beautiful things; in fact, I made the picture attached to this post. Why I love music so much, is because it’s always been my escape route from life… Even if it’s only momentarily.
As for who I am now? I’m a girl who smiles every single day, because i’ve realized that anger is useless and tends to ruin things. I have no respect when for people when they yell or even raise their voice at me, it’s one of the things that still kill me inside. I love people, despite how quiet I can be. I’m not quiet because I’m shy, I’m quiet because I’d much rather listen to the tales told by another. I’m witty, I always know what to say when the time is right. I joke with people, when life’s rough you need a sense of humor. Depression still catches up with me from time to time; the difference? It goes away after a few weeks and I know how to control it. I dress in the clothes I like, even if some people still judge this book by its beautiful and intimidating cover. I’ve learned, and continue to learn, many interesting things and met some extraordinary people… My friends? Have come to peace with themselves too for the most part. However, most my new friends are older than me seeing as they understand when I talk about life. I told a boy my age (he asked me out, I barely knew him, but wanted change and agreed) that I wouldn’t have sex with him because rushing into things in the past resulted in me molested. He laughed and said “so if I have sex with you, you’re going to say I raped you?” I broke up with him literally after a day. I’m also a dreamer, I look at my future often and I’m going to get the gold no matter how hard it may be. I know I haven’t had the worst life, but I will never say my life was well paved… I know now that I can do anything if I want to badly enough.
Moral of my story: Be happy. As hard as life can be sometimes, it always gets better. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather live my life on a road with ups and downs than an ideal flat boring but “perfect” life.