Drowning Lessons
Preface
"(Is Suicide a Choice?) No. Choice implies that a suicidal person can reasonably look at alternatives and select among them. If they could rationally choose, it would not be suicide. Suicide happens when all other alternatives are exhausted -- when no other choices are seen."
-Adina Wrobleski
Who am I?
Why am I here?
I feel like there is no purpose in life. I'm not important at all. No one loves me and even if they did, I'd label them "crazy" or "insane".
Because really, who would love me? Who would love my long, curly dyed black hair or my brilliant green eyes? Wait-did I just say brilliant? That's not the word I was looking for...
I'm a poor excuse for a 14-year-old girl. I'm ugly-I've inherited the worse side of my family gene I guess.
I'm drowning in depression and despair. It all happened so fast. It seemed like only yesterday when I was so happy; so proud of who I was. Now I'm just ashamed.
Why would I want to live anymore now that she's gone? She was like the sister I never had!
We were so close and now that she's gone I feel as if a part of me is missing, never to return again. It's appalling and although I'm so caught up in deep depression I know how worried my parents are. I can just see it in their eyes. Whenever I'm around them all they do is stare at me with a saddened look to their faces. I've nicked at their hearts for so long, I know.
But it's not like I did this intentionally. I didn't map this whole scheme out. Let's see...
Monday: Drill nails into their hearts...
Tuesday: Dig out their souls and rip it in half...
No, I didn't do that! I'm sick; weak.
Humans are fragile beings, I'll have you know. One stab at your heart; one gunshot to the head and you're gone. You're dead. And it can be so easy. It's so effortless to hold that gun up to your head and pull the trigger. To grab that knife underneath your bed, point it to your heart and you're set; Just swing.
It's not complicated and although, I havn't done it yet. I don't want to think of myself as suicidal. But I can't push away those thoughts out of my mind. I feel so numb; not even living my life, letting time pass me by.
And the sad part is...I don't care. I could care less about life. It's all just a big game anyway. I used to be digusted with people who take life for granted and I convienced myself that I'll never do the same thing but I am. I'm doing the same exact thing.
But it's not like I had a choice. It's not like I thought,
'Hey, I think I want to be depressed today! I think I want to be suicidal!'
I'm sorry, but it just doesn't work that way. I can't think straight. I wonder everyday, Why didn't I die too? Why did she, my cousin, have to die?
We were in the same situation,the same setting, and yet I came out alive with only a couple of broken bones! Why did it have to happen in the first place? I just feel so angry with myself like I could've done something! But now I just don't know who I am anymore!
Am I the real Brianna Tillie Armstrong or am I just watching someone else's life on the TV screen every fucking day?
Am I a repetition of someone else's life...or am I just a figment of my imagination?
-Adina Wrobleski
Who am I?
Why am I here?
I feel like there is no purpose in life. I'm not important at all. No one loves me and even if they did, I'd label them "crazy" or "insane".
Because really, who would love me? Who would love my long, curly dyed black hair or my brilliant green eyes? Wait-did I just say brilliant? That's not the word I was looking for...
I'm a poor excuse for a 14-year-old girl. I'm ugly-I've inherited the worse side of my family gene I guess.
I'm drowning in depression and despair. It all happened so fast. It seemed like only yesterday when I was so happy; so proud of who I was. Now I'm just ashamed.
Why would I want to live anymore now that she's gone? She was like the sister I never had!
We were so close and now that she's gone I feel as if a part of me is missing, never to return again. It's appalling and although I'm so caught up in deep depression I know how worried my parents are. I can just see it in their eyes. Whenever I'm around them all they do is stare at me with a saddened look to their faces. I've nicked at their hearts for so long, I know.
But it's not like I did this intentionally. I didn't map this whole scheme out. Let's see...
Monday: Drill nails into their hearts...
Tuesday: Dig out their souls and rip it in half...
No, I didn't do that! I'm sick; weak.
Humans are fragile beings, I'll have you know. One stab at your heart; one gunshot to the head and you're gone. You're dead. And it can be so easy. It's so effortless to hold that gun up to your head and pull the trigger. To grab that knife underneath your bed, point it to your heart and you're set; Just swing.
It's not complicated and although, I havn't done it yet. I don't want to think of myself as suicidal. But I can't push away those thoughts out of my mind. I feel so numb; not even living my life, letting time pass me by.
And the sad part is...I don't care. I could care less about life. It's all just a big game anyway. I used to be digusted with people who take life for granted and I convienced myself that I'll never do the same thing but I am. I'm doing the same exact thing.
But it's not like I had a choice. It's not like I thought,
'Hey, I think I want to be depressed today! I think I want to be suicidal!'
I'm sorry, but it just doesn't work that way. I can't think straight. I wonder everyday, Why didn't I die too? Why did she, my cousin, have to die?
We were in the same situation,the same setting, and yet I came out alive with only a couple of broken bones! Why did it have to happen in the first place? I just feel so angry with myself like I could've done something! But now I just don't know who I am anymore!
Am I the real Brianna Tillie Armstrong or am I just watching someone else's life on the TV screen every fucking day?
Am I a repetition of someone else's life...or am I just a figment of my imagination?