suicide-and-other-comforts

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

I have a weird relationship with my mom. I used to think she was the most beautiful person in the world and wanted to be just like her, but I don’t wanna be anything close to that anymore. She was a good mom until my dad started doing his fuck shit. I cry when people yell now because of both of them, but mainly her. I felt so unloved and unwanted as a child. I remember when she was in the hospital for months and I was living with my grandma and my aunt back and forth. I felt like I didn’t have parents anymore, I barely saw either of them. I went weeks without seeing either of them. I remember seeing my mom so frail and sickly, it was one of the scariest times of my life. I remember when my dad died like the back of my hand, any sense of innocence I had left was gone after that. You don’t ever recover from watching someone die in front of you, especially a parent. I was so young, no 11 year old should have to see that. I remember the weeks and months after that. No food in the house, no heat, no electricity, no hot water, no love, no support. I remember her yelling at the top of her lungs every day over things that didn’t matter in the long run. I lost my father, my only father, does a dirty dish really matter in the grand scheme of things? I remember being beat every day and her turning a blind eye to it. I remember skipping meals and sleeping when I was hungry instead. I remember being constantly sick from being in the cold too much. I remember not having enough money for pads or socks. I remember eating toast and ramen every day. I remember her telling me that I was turning into a person she didn’t like, at 10 years old. Being around her didn’t feel like walking on eggshells, it felt like walking on thumbtacks. I remember locking myself in my room and pushing all my furniture in front of my door to escape the abuse. I remember her telling me to deal with my problems myself. I remember getting my hair pulled, being choked, being punched and having things thrown at me for just defending myself. I remember being so lonely. Lonely to the point where I ended up in multiple abusive relationships just to feel something and to escape her. She put all her attention into the men she was seeing, but would never admit it. I was being raped and abused every night while she was blissfully asleep in the next room. I went to her room late at night one time when I was having a panic attack, and she told me to go to sleep and leave her alone. She told me no man would want to see my body after what I done to it and that I was useless. She told me she doesn’t like me as a person. Whenever I begged her for help, I just got punished instead. Then, got more punishment for the ways I figured out how to survive. I was only trying to get through the day, i swear. She was never there for me, but will take it to the grave that she did everything for me. I was an unwanted child, I was excess. I was always overlooked and undervalued. Nothing I did was good enough and I’m a failure for not doing more. The doctors recommended that she get an abortion when she was pregnant with me because I wasn’t supposed to be carried nearly as far as she carried me for, and I wish she just did it. She gave birth to a child she didn’t want and she never let me forget it. She never outwardly told me that, but the way I was constantly ignored said enough. The only time I got attention was from the multiple times she caught me cutting myself and the times I tried killing myself. Instead of comforting me and talking to me, she told me I was stupid and selfish and threw me into therapy. I skipped a lot of school, I did a lot of drugs, and I destroyed my body multiple times and she still couldn’t see that all I needed was my mother. She just cared about the next paycheck and her at the time boyfriend. I knew she didn’t really care about my well being when she pressured me to drop out of college to work more to pay the bills. I never had a chance. I’m tired of constantly trying to scratch my way to the surface with no help. I lost both parents the day my father died.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

A letter to 2022

Fuck you. Fuck it all. This year was awful. While still hurt from this years events, I am oddly thankful. I no longer drag peoples burdens with me. I no longer pour myself into bottomless people. I know who I am and I know what I’m worth and there’s nothing anyone can say to me otherwise. I still have a lot of work to do, but I’m so much closer to being my authentic than I’ve ever been. I miss my baby, I miss my dad, I miss my dog and I miss my grandfather. The loss and grief of them will always stay with me, but I deal with it better and better every day. I’m taking this year to finally start being selfish and to start taking myself more seriously. No more emptying myself to men who don’t care, no more letting what people say about me get to me, no more comparing myself to other people, no more being in any business but my own and most of all, no more loathing myself. I haven’t felt like myself at all this last year, and I really need to get back to doing what feels right and natural to me. I just now realized that I’m in my house by myself, thinking about my baby and how different my life could’ve been and how I wished more than anything I could’ve met her. I’m gonna take this year to do my best and not let her be in vein and do better and be better prepared. I never even wanted kids until I was pregnant and now that I don’t have her, that’s all I want. It’s crazy how your mind can change in the blink of an eye. I really hope I can pull through for myself this year. 2023, please be kind to me.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

I miss my baby. I miss feeling hopeful about the future. I miss my dad. I miss the person I was 3-4 years ago. I miss sitting in my grandfathers chair. I miss getting breakfast before school every Friday. I miss Monday night raw with the family. I miss watching overhaul with my dad, even though it annoyed me at the time. I miss being called sunshine and habichuela. I miss being ignorant. I miss being innocent. I miss being able to run away. I miss having potential instead of being content with being wasted potential. I miss being easy to love. I miss having a purpose, I can’t even get up everyday for myself. Nothing I do is for myself. I miss attaching memories to songs. I miss the wave of nostalgia I got listening to those songs, everything feels like a blur now. Everything feels foggy. I miss being loved, even if it wasn’t for the right reasons. I miss being high and thoughtless. I miss late nights in the cemetery. I miss walking in the woods by myself. I miss comfortable solitude. I miss being motivated and organized. I miss being young and dumb instead of being young and stupid. I miss being excited about minor things. I miss the feeling of buying more weed. I miss the feeling of getting out of work or school early in the day and feeling like the world was mine. I miss the times where me and my mom actually got along. I miss not being in pain all the time. I miss that small phase of where I was the person I loved the most. I miss knowing who I was instead of being the person I’m expected to be. I miss being soft and sweet instead of being abrasive and mean. I miss being content with absolutely nothing. I miss when my family was actually a family. I miss taking Polaroid pictures of everything. I miss going to concerts and actually having a good time. I miss being excited for my birthday. I miss standing out for the right reasons. I miss being fearless. I miss being unbothered.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

5 days. The day is 5 days away. It’s been 10 years, and I already spent half my life without you. This year has definitely been the worst year of my life. I don’t have you, my grandfather, cutie or my baby. Cutie was the last thing I had left of you and she’s gone. I wish I could see all your faces one more time. I wish I could just hug you one more time and tell you that I’m trying so hard to forgive you and I wish that I could tell myself that everything is okay. It’s like the more time that passes, the more I miss you. If there is an afterlife, I hope you’re spending it looking after baby O. She would’ve loved you and I know you would’ve loved her just as much. I need you now more than ever. I wish I could just talk to you one more time. I wish I could tell you that I love you just one last time. I’m trying so hard to believe that everything happens for a reason, but I just can’t see why this would need to happen. The universe is vast, empty and random. I can’t see anything having much meaning anymore. I wish I could jump to a dimension where you didn’t go out that night. I wish I could forget how you looked when you died. I wish we could all just be a family again. I wish I could be your daughter again.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

Dear Ophelia,

I wasn’t sure of your name until I saw the painting of it today. It’s as beautiful as I imagine you to be. This is gonna be the last night I have with you and just know, I’m gonna think about you for the rest of my life. I’m sorry that things are the way they are. I wish things could’ve been different. I wish I could be different. I would’ve loved you more than anything in this world, I currently do love you more than anything. Being an adult calls to make difficult choices, and this is the most difficult one I’ve had to make in my whole life. I’m sorry I can’t give you the life you deserved. I’m sorry that I have to do this to you but it’s genuinely for your own good. I love you too much to let you go through any of the things I went through as a kid. I wish I could’ve met you, held you and kissed you on your forehead. I wish I could feel you kick. I wish I could see you get bigger and bigger as the months passed. I wish I would be able to see your first steps and hear you say your first words. I wish I had the support I needed to have you. I’m sorry, I really am. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me and understand that I’m doing this because I love you. You are loved and you are wanted, I just can’t let you suffer the way I did. You would’ve been the most beautiful baby girl in the whole world. I know you would’ve looked just like me, but even more beautiful. I’m really going to push myself to do better to at least honor you and do right by you. I hope somewhere in the afterlife, I get to meet you. I love you more than anything in this entire world, and I would’ve given my life to you and for you. I’m having trouble saying goodbye to you, so I’ll just say see you later instead. I love you, and I will always think of you.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

My mom always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. Nothing I ever do is good enough. If I wash a dish or wipe a counter, she comes up behind me and does it all over again because whatever I do isn’t up to her standards. My siblings are a lot older than me and had more opportunities of growth than I’ve gotten and she still holds me to those standards. She doesn’t even bother asking me what’s wrong, she only points out that everything I do is wrong. She doesn’t understand that being productive is hard if you don’t even wanna be alive every day. Having to wake up is genuinely the worst part of my day. She was too focused on chasing men to realize that I needed her. She was never there when I needed her. I needed her when I was being abused and extorted by my ex. I needed her when I was getting beat every day. I needed her when my dad died. I needed her when I had no socks or clothes for school. I needed her when I would sleep instead of eating because there was nothing to eat. I needed her when I wanted to kill myself. I needed her when I was struggling with my addictions. I needed her when even leaving the house was just too much for me. I needed her when I couldn’t speak up for myself and she was never there. I’ve never had a shoulder to cry on or someone I can fall back on. My room is a mess, my body is a mess, my life is a mess. I genuinely am getting tired of having to wake up every day. Nothing I ever do is good enough and my mother only reminds me of that.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

It’s your birthday today. I had gotten so fucked up the night before that I completely forgot until my brother brought it up. Looking at how much I look like you crushes me. Me and my siblings are the only things that are left of you and it seems like no one cares. Your own compais don’t even check in on us. They were supposed to be your brothers and this is what they do. I truly believe they had a part in you being taken away from us. I’m not looking forward to September at all. Your grave doesn’t feel like a place I belong at. I wonder what I would say to you if I ever saw you again. I wonder more what you would say to me. Would you still be proud of me knowing all the things I’ve done? Are you looking down at me satisfied with the person I grew up to be? Do you have any regrets for the things you did to us growing up? A lot of my trauma stems from you but losing you was the biggest one. I naively thought that things will be normal again one day when I was 11 but things won’t ever be normal again. Losing your only father figure that young isn’t normal at all. Not having anyone to walk you down the isle is not normal. People don’t understand what losing a father that young does to you. I know you were also a son, a “husband”, a brother and a friend; but they don’t even think about how losing you affected us. All the shit we went through after because of you. They always talk about how kind and generous you were, but i barely remember that side of you. I wish I saw more of it. I’m jealous of the people that got to know more of you for a longer time than I did. I wished I would’ve hugged you for one second longer the last time I saw you as yourself, not what you were on your deathbed. Seeing you die in front of me was the worst experience of my life. I know there’s gonna be a 10 year memorial bullshit ceremony this year and if I’m being honest, I don’t wanna fucking go at all. It’s never about you, it’s about your mother seeking sympathy and your “friends” seeking clout. No one ever stops and thinks about how seeing videos of you belligerently drunk affects us. It was all fun and games to them but it was something completely different to us. I love you and I miss you, but I wish you could’ve been a better father.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

Life is hard. It’s always been hard. I have a hard time connecting to people, especially after my dad died. I don’t think I know what the feeling of love is, I don’t think I truly loved anyone or anything. I’m currently content with sitting in my bed and watching my life ruin itself in front of my eyes. I’m content with burning all my bridges and ruining all my relationships I put meaningless work into. Things seem more and more meaningless as the days pass. If there was a meaning to being alive, wouldn’t I have found it already? If I truly loved doing anything, wouldn’t I be doing it right now? I think I keep the people I currently have in my life just to keep myself from feeling completely useless. Everyone has goals, aspirations and things they wanna do for the fuck of it but, I don’t have any of that. I just wanna rot in my bed alone. I’m becoming more and more convinced that that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. I don’t even feel peace when I sleep anymore. I wake up in pain everyday, literally. Why is being alive so physically and mentally daunting? I don’t care about myself or anything enough to do better anymore. I’m slowly spiraling into the road I went down 3-4 years ago. I have enough Xanax under my bed to kill 4 elephants and to get put into prison for at least 10 years and taking it is becoming more tempting by the day. Nothing I do has meaning or purpose. I don’t put love into anything I do. I don’t enjoy the things I used to enjoy anymore. Everything is tasking and tiring. Life is work and I’m tired of working.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

I would usually start this off by saying that I wish we had more time, but we had more than enough time that I didn’t do a damn thing with. I wish I learned Spanish for you sooner. I wish I asked you to tell me stories about when you were still on the island and I wish I could fully understand them. I miss you tapping on my shoulder and pretending it wasn’t you that did it. I miss stealing your hat off your head just to play around with it with you. I miss digging in your candy stash that you had to have hidden. I miss you getting mad at me for messing with your word search books. I miss listening to the Spanish radio with you in the mornings and watching the Spanish news with you at night. I know we had enough time, but I still selfishly long for more. I had almost 20 great years with you. I wish to love the way you loved. I want the strength you had in your last days. The body in the casket didn’t look like you at all. I miss your plump face and your thick brimmed glasses. I miss you talking about the Yankees all the time. Seeing you in your last days hurt so fucking bad. It fucked me up so much that I went through a whole manic period again. My heart sinks whenever I pass that picture of you by my door. It’s one of the last times I remember you genuinely smiling. I miss how excited you would always be when you found out I changed my hair color again. I miss my graduation day, the only father figure in my life being proud of me was such a good feeling. I hope you’re at peace, and I hope you can do what you love again now that you passed on.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

It’s that time of year again. The time where I kinda reminisce but also try so hard not to think too much about. It’s been 8 years but it felt like a lifetime already. I guess that’s because a lifetime of shit happened in between then and now. I think about you often. You even show up in my dreams at times. I’ll find something of yours and it’ll give me this weird feeling. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe it. I’m starting to forget the sound of your voice. I would do anything just to hear it one last time. I’m also starting to forget the tattoos you had. I just wish we had more time. I wish I told you I loved you more, maybe this would’ve been avoided if I did. You never showed your love much but I like to think that you did love us, even though your actions said otherwise. I think my problem of feeling like a burden to everyone stemmed from you. Feeling like I’m not good enough. Feeling like my feelings weren’t valid. You used to call me sunshine and said I was daddy’s little girl. I didn’t know I had another little sister until I was 17. I was already grown, but the cut was still deep. And believe me when I tell you that it not only fucking burned, it wouldnt stop bleeding. That internal wound infected and became what feels like septic. I go back and forth from hating your fucking guts to wanting to die because I feel like I can’t go on for the rest of my life knowing you’re not gonna be here for any of it. You couldn’t meet my first boyfriend, you never saw me graduate, you couldn’t congratulate me when I scored my first job by myself, I couldn’t share my first drink with you, you never got to see me become a woman. These were all things I celebrated by myself. I lay in my bed a lot wishing that I was the one that died that day. I wish I was the one that got to rest. No one has any idea of how broken I constantly feel. I can never put myself back together because there’s always pieces going missing. That’s what you did to me. I haven’t felt whole since 1:04pm almost 8 years ago. You were too young. I was too young.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

I’ve been having the strongest urge to self harm for a few months now. I’ve come scarily close to it a few times, even going as far as buying razors from my job with the intent of breaking them apart for the blades inside. I contemplate doing it every time I see them laying on my couch. I guess I need at least one bad habit to get through the day. I lost my best friend recently. Or who I thought was my best friend. She didn’t die or anything, she just chose to shut me out in a time of need. All for a man that won’t stop cheating on her. This is why I don’t get close to anyone. I’d rather be alone than be abandoned. I constantly contemplate where I’m gonna cut myself, preferably in a spot that’s easy to conceal. I’ve been thinking about my hips, or my stomach. Would make having sex awkward though, even though it’s just another thing to fill the void and make me actually feel something just like self harm does. Makes life bearable for a short amount of time, until I remember how alone I actually am. I really do think I’m losing my mind. It’s been a year and 8 months since I last self harmed, I think the only thing stopping me is not wanting all that effort to go to waste. Actually, I think the only thing stopping me is wanting to avoid questions about it during sex. I miss the burning feeling it would give me. I miss watching my blood flow out slowly as soon as the blade strikes my skin. I miss the most deep and fresh breath I would take after the first pass. I miss the amount of relief I feel after finishing up. I miss watching the bath water get tinted red as I wash up. I definitely miss watching the blood run the most though. I wasn’t satisfied until I bled a certain amount. I hate that being self destructive is what makes me feel normal.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

My grandfather is dying. I don’t think he’ll make it past this year. Nothing feels right. I don’t feel happy in situations that I’m supposed to feel happy in. When I’m awake, all I feel is this unending pit in my chest. When I’m asleep, my dreams won’t let me relax. When I try to wake up, I suffocate. Why do I make myself feel like this? Why can’t I be happy? I guess if I were to ever write a suicide note, this would be it. I don’t sleep too much anymore. I’ve been thinking of taking my own life a lot lately, I feel like that’s the only way I would be at peace. All I want is to be able to breathe again without it feel like someone is constantly stepping on my throat.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

Dad.

I just realized that I’m starting to forget the sound of your voice. It’s been 7 years, and I still feel the way I felt that day when I think about it. I remember everything vividly. I don’t know if my memory is just that good or if that means I’m traumatized. I still remember the smell of the waiting room in the ICU. Whenever I happen to pick up something similar to it, my whole body freezes. I wish I told you that I loved you more, maybe things would’ve been different if I did. I miss listening to that one voicemail you left me when you told me that I’ll always be your sunshine and that you’ll always love me. I miss the days where I looked up to you, I miss when I wanted to be just like you. I can’t bear to look in the mirror sometimes because when I look into my eyes, I happen to see yours too. It hurts to know that you’ll never be able to see me grow up. I wear that white shirt with the race car on it that you used to wear at home when I’m missing you. I wish I could talk to you one more time. I wish I could tell you how much I fucking miss you. I wish I could tell you all the things I should’ve when you were alive. I just wish we could go back to the way things used to be and be a family again. I wish I never resented you, I wish I never pushed you away. I wish things could’ve been different. I wish I could be different. I wish you could see the strong woman I am today. I like to think that you would’ve been proud of me. I feel like I go through the cycles of grief once every 2-3 years. I feel like I’m in purgatory. I keep reliving the same nightmare over and over again. I sometimes see visions of the way you looked on the hospital bed before you died when I close my eyes. I wish I could’ve sat next to you and held your hand forever. From the time we got to the hospital to the time we went to Mama’s house after you died were the longest 14 hours of my life. I wish I could’ve helped you fight your demons, but what could an 11 year old really do?

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

My anxiety has been keeping me up at night. Idk why. I guess there’s just so much I have to do and the mere thought of not being able to pull through scares me. Weed hasn’t been doing the trick anymore. I’m starting to feel lonely again and I don’t know why. It comes in waves I guess. Idk if I’m in need of companionship or true intimacy. I guess it’s a combination of everything. It’s 5:30 am and I have to be up in like 5ish hours for Christmas. Social interaction has been exhausting lately. It’s been making me sick to my stomach. Currently sitting in my bathroom, wondering why I feel the way I do. Things can most definitely be worse, but why does it seem like they never get better? My resilience is slowly strengthening and I’m able to push through at the end of the day but I haven’t felt a shred of genuine happiness in years. I’ve been either depressed or numb. Don’t I deserve to be happy for once? Don’t I deserve something good instead of being the something good for once? Why do I keep sending mixed signals to people who I’ll never be with, and why are they also sending me mixed signals? I’ve never been a drinker, but the taste of liquor has seemed very inviting lately. Is this evolution, or disintegration? Am I growing up or shutting down? I’m starting to be less manic and am starting to hit the depressive mode. The holidays make me realize how alone I really am.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

It hurts to see people I used to be friends with go out with other people I know and exclude me. It hurts not being checked up on but other people expect you to check up on them. It hurts when I push people away and I don’t even know why. I just can’t help it I guess. Idk why I act like I’m fine and that I’m indestructible when I really know that I’m on the verge of collapsing. Why do I have to be this fucking lonely? I spent my birthday crying in my room alone and sleeping. Why can’t someone care for me the way I care for other people? Why can’t my affection be reciprocated for once in my god forsaken life? When I take a step forward, why do I take 3 steps back? Why is being toxic to myself almost comforting? Comforting isn’t the right word I guess. I meant to say familiar. Feeling the way I feel now is too familiar, feels almost normal at this point. I’m young, I should be out living my best life but instead I hide inside, too insecure, depressed and shy to do anything about it. I hide it all well. I don’t want to make my problems anyone else’s and I don’t want to give them reasons to judge me. Everyone expects me to be open minded but examine me and all my flaws under a fucking microscope. It hurts knowing that I’ll never be anyone’s first choice. I haven’t self harmed in about 10 months but the urge to do it is eating me alive.

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

Seeing my other posts on her depresses me. It’s crazy how people that are supposed to love you make you feel that way. I cut that person out of my life after 4 years and I’m a lot happier now. I’m doing a lot better. I’m no longer suicidal and I’m managing my bipolar and anxiety. I hope I won’t ever have to write some depressing ass shit on this blog again. I fucked up along the way, did a lot of things that were only harming myself but I learned from then. The urge to harm myself will always be there but I’m stronger than that. I’m not letting my illness or my past define me anymore. I’m not letting anyone bring me down anymore

[suicide-and-other-comforts]

I fucking hate my life. I hate everything about it. I'm not being ungrateful. Idk what to say. I can't do anything without getting anxiety. My bipolar disorder is getting worse. I want to kill my self every passing day. Having to wake up in the morning is the hardest part of my day. I'm useless, I can't do anything right and I can never get anything done properly. I'm disassociated from everything, especially any kind of feeling of joy. I don't even know how to love my own boyfriend or family anymore. I don't have fun doing anything anymore. All I want to do is smoke and sleep. I don't want to be awake or alive anymore.