I know it is a very strange thing to say, but I always have suicide on my mind.  I often wonder if it’s normal because even before I had a word for it the thought of self-harm and the eventual undoing of my being was there. I guess if I think back long enough, I can clearly remember that even at the age of 7 I hoped I wouldn’t live past year 12. Then I remember while in primary school, I asked my Catholic school teacher a very strange question. I remember standing up and asking her if I was to kill myself before I am able to live a life of sin would I go to heaven? For some strange reason, I was always preoccupied with the thought going to heaven. I always look back in wonder at my childhood and try to figure out why I was and am this way. Perhaps I knew that this all started with the feeling of being unwanted, never fitting in, and a deep feeling of melancholia that was just a part of my core. Sometimes I think I was born this way because I can never really fathom what happiness feels like or what it could be like to be a human who was sure of who they are.

As an adult, I realize that no one wants to hear sad stories. No one wants to hear complaints, you are always asked to think of others in worse situations living their third world pain. Forcing me to know that my thoughts are ridiculous and self-centered. Whenever I am forced to think this way a few things happen. I always agree that others have it far worse and I never bring it up again. Then I keep it to myself and commence with swallowing those poison words knowing that they would eventually kill me. I will keep swallowing my thoughts because this might be the only way I can come to a logical end.