After the recent incident with my parents, it left me thinking, What's the point of having a family that feels so fake? My suicidal thoughts kept coming back. I wanted to self-harm. My own parents wouldn't take me seriously.
I finally took out a pen knife today and played with it. Holding it felt like some kind of relief. If only poking and slicing my skin would help release some tension. I held it close to my arm, leaning the sharp blade against my skin, and started tearing. What was I thinking?
Two hours later, I woke up with the pen knife beside me. I fell asleep due to being mentally exhausted. It is mentally exhausting when your home feels unsafe. It's a place where you need to be numb in order to be "normal" and continue life as per "normal."
The last time I had suicidal thoughts and self-harmed was back in my teens. I was immature, unstable, and helpless. But never did I know this could happen again in my 20s with a fully developed brain.
People become suicidal when they feel there's no hope anymore, and that's what I feel. There's no hope for me to be happy in this family. There's no hope in seeking comfort from my own parents. They've made me feel like I'm a problem for them. I'm a burden instead.
There's no hope because no one can understand how I feel. There's no hope in fighting because they will never change. I'm 24 this year. I should get past my childhood trauma but it became bigger instead. My past wounds had grown deeper.
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