for as long as i could remember, i’ve been thinking of death so many times. committing suicide. ending my own life.
i remember the first time. i was a little kid at that time. i was sitting alone, crying. thinking nobody would care about me. i thought that if i die, it would be better for everyone.
well, i was wrong. my family loves me.
but it didn’t stop me from thinking about it again. there were few incidents afterwards. which i rather not talk about. it gave me cuts. deep cuts. it left me scars, which many times have bleed again. for whatever reason.
i think i have a lot of scars. physical and mental. emotional for exact. maybe that’s the reason why i always think about it everytime im down.
im not scared. i know eventually everyone will die. including me.
who knows when the time is up …