I think that's the problem. I'm a private person really, as much as I like to share. I love telling people about things but not my thoughts. They're my thoughts, I'll keep them to myself thank you.
Take for instance my last years of primary school/first years of high school. I cried myself to sleep every night, imagining ways I could kill myself (or dreaming of ways the universe would do it for me). I never told anyone, not until earlier this year when I admitted it to both my brother and my best friend, though my best friend got more details. I just did not know how to say it- how does one bring up in a conversation that they have issues planning for the future because, until recently, they didn't believe they would see 18? That for a while there they thought this early death would happen at their own hands? How could I admit that I thought myself too much of a coward to take what I was raised to believe was the coward's way out?
Well, I guess I'm admitting it now. I don't know how many people read this but it's a start. Semi-anonymous settings for the win.
I'm not ashamed, I don't think. I still get upset when I remember the worse nights, when the only reason I didn't sneak downstairs to swallow every pill in my parents cupboard was imagining my parents' reaction to finding me dead. My fear of hurting them was stronger than my desire to just be dead. I cannot stress how much I just wanted to be dead- it didn't have to be at my own hand and in fact I honestly believed the universe was going to find a way to make me be dead by 18.
I have no idea how I got out of this way of thinking. I guess one day I went to sleep knowing that I had not imagined my death for an entire week! That I had friends, actual friends, who cared for me and weren't going to tell me they didn't want to hang out with me (Something that has happened to me at least twice). Now when I imagined my death (which I did still do) I imagined their reactions to my death as well as my family's. One more reason to stay. I turned 18, my god I cannot stress how much turning 18 helped. Knowing I had made it, against imagined odds I'll admit but still against odds, was such a huge boost. I have things to live for, some of them silly but most of them not.
I've not imagined myself dying, planning out every detail of how it would happen and how my family would feel, in a very long time. It's a good feeling. Sure I still have gloomy thoughts but never do I go to sleep at night crying after imagining how the car trip tomorrow will kill me.
I think it's fitting I'm seeing 2013 out with this admission. It's something I've wanted to say for a long time but never had the words. I don't know if I've got the words now but it's a start.
