Blurry
April 15th, 2005. I turned 14 three days before and just got into one of the better high schools in New York City so by all accounts I should have been ecstatic. But I wasn’t. I was miserable. So sitting there on my dimly lit bathroom floor I was going to kill myself. I remember everything about that moment clearly. From the feeling of the sink at my back to the way the shadows fell across the floor. Most of all I remember how I hated every fucking little thing about myself at that moment.
With my vision blurry from the tears I picked up the knife in my right hand and pressed it against my left wrist. Pressing it into the skin I felt how cold and sharp it was and I stopped. I couldn’t do it. Death was so final, and above all else it scared the shit out of me. I don’t believe in God now and I didn’t then so there were no expectations of heaven or hell but it was still terrifying.
I out the knife down and just sat there staring at the wall and crying for the longest ten minutes of my life. It felt like I’d been sitting there for hours. But my parents would be home soon with my sister and I wasn’t about to let them find me like that in the bathroom. So I washed my face, walked out of the bathroom, put the knife away and then sat down on my bed, put on my headphones and drowned out the thoughts in my head with loud music.
That was the last time I came close to attempting suicide, but it wasn’t the last time I thought about it. I used to hide this story from people thinking it was shameful. It’s not. It made me who I am today. I was an asshole before then and I’d like to think I’m no longer one but I suppose that’s for everyone else to judge. They can judge all they want because their opinions no longer bother me. I don’t know if your life really flashes in front of your eyes before you die, but I’m damn sure glad I didn’t get to find out.
No responses yet