What If I Write A Suicide Note?

I’m not one to be mushy and emotionally overrated and all but I’ll try summing up all the reasons why I should commit suicide in this note. These are just words and paragraphs; the author is still pretty much alive and breathing. It’s a spontaneous flood of words that I have to vent out or else I’ll end up burning the house I live in. These are the final written verses of a kid who has lived through a Cinderella life. So here goes.

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I speak with an oppressed tongue, a battered privilege, and a helpless distress. My brain is vague with trauma and flashes of the evil that resides with me but as far as I my thoughts can sum up, I have always found a reason to smile for at least once a day for the last 21 years of my existence. I have an optimism so strong that I sometimes get confused on how I get through pain quite easily. And that made me who I am today- a resonant of positivity. 

I’ve been oppressed in a lot of ways and I could’ve spoken up but the only thing that stopped me is that I didn’t want to cause any arguments from their family - a dysfunctional family from what I have observed. The fact that I have always secluded myself inside my room to stray away from them should’ve given them the sign that I never did want any attention. I was a bastard, but no bastard should be treated the way I was treated. I went through days of stolen possessions, weeks of hunger, and months of plain cold loathing.

All the warnings that I sensed from the moment I stepped foot in this house should have driven me away. I thought I could handle it, I thought I could live through it. And as you read my last written words, I want you all to know that I die because of helplessness, I die because I surrender from the overwhelming stress of not being able to do anything. See I’ve had my fair share of trouble (probably more than normal people have gone through) but I have solved them on my own, I seldom ask for help. But for the record, this game that has burnt me down to my grave is a game that I certainly could’ve won but I’ve chosen not to.

Every day was a downhill road where I saw myself heading down to a stupid depression. Then one day I woke up and felt that I couldn’t smile anymore. It was as if I suddenly saw the world through a black and white television and the stress grew like a tumour- a terminal dust of death that fed on my despair and anger.

All those oppression boiled rage in me that it came to a point where a knife or a gun seemed pretty beautiful. No, it wasn’t suicide at first and that was what I feared more. I was afraid that someday I would breakdown and see their blood on my hands. And frankly speaking, I did have had thoughts in my mind of how pleasant my world would be if they were dead cold. The realization was so true and I have had the sweetest satisfaction of doing that in my dreams. 

And after all that, it summed up to this. It all summed up to exhaustion to merely breath. I’ll be pretty hypocritical if I say that I have left this place with contentment and joy in my heart because I definitely did not. And if ever there’s a way to haunt the people who took out the life in me, I promise on my ashes that I’ll do whatever it takes to do it.

But even though the last moments of my life were full of whining and hatred, I have travelled a good road and I really am thankful for all those who I love and love most. I’m afraid of fading away slowly which is why I choose to burn out. I don’t want all of you to see me turn dull and lifeless dummy so I’ll leave all of you guys with a memory of a happy me. And remember, life is not a risk; it’s a leap of fate. 

Farewell.