Every once in a while, my friends and other relatives check up on me. Usually asking “How are you?”, “How’s school?”, and such. And I’d just respond with the costumary laugh and “I’m good.”, “It’s great.”, “I’m okay.” Then I’d divert the topic about them. I think that’s pretty normal. Everyone is like that. You know, to keep them off your back. Right?
And I lied. I’m not okay. Actually, I’ve been in-denial most of the time that I’m surrounded by other people. It’s like being okay, means conforming with everyone. I’m not the type who just goes with the flow, but doing this is less troublesome. If I tell them the truth, they’ll be obliged to make me feel better. Like giving advice, and words of encouragement. Empty words. And then there’ll be pity in their eyes. Cliche. But that’s reality. And I hate that as much as I hate myself for still feeling worthless.
I’m going back to that place, that place where the voices tell me to escape. Because this is something I can never face, no matter how I encourge myself. I realize I’m just fooling myself. And deep inside, I know, even without the voices, that the only way to escape is to end everything. It’s funny though, I want to die, but I’m afraid to die. Ironic.
Everyday, I wait for death to claim me. So dramatic. But I’m not doing anything. Will it come? Will it hurt? Ah. And I’m here again. In this place between existing and wanting to live. What a struggle. It’s making me laugh. It’s making me sick.