All I wanted to hear was "It's okay."
- 3시간 전
- 2분 분량
Since some point in my life,
asking for help has become unbearably difficult.
I do not even know how to do it anymore.
What qualifies someone to receive help?
And even if I knew the answer,
I doubt I would ever meet that standard.
These days, I have come to realize that, in the end,
I am the one who has to solve everything myself.
Even the thought of saying, “I want help,” is enough to bring me to tears.
In a month, my sessions with my doctor will come to an end.
And at the end of that road, all that will remain is a fragile version of myself
—and the part of me that is relentlessly cruel to that fragile self.
I am still afraid of falling asleep each night
with the same person who is capable of killing me: myself.
When I meet my doctor for the last time,
I find myself wondering whether I should ask for some kind of medical documentation—
something that could prove the last eight years of suffering,
so that organizations like LifeCircle would consider me eligible for assisted dying.
It is one of those thoughts that seem both meaningful and meaningless at the same time.
“If you cannot even understand yourself, how can you expect others to understand you?
And even if they do, would that understanding ever truly satisfy you?”
I could not argue back.
Once again, I was wrong.
And so I found myself trapped inside the cruelest cage in the world.
Still, I have carried these suicidal thoughts for thirteen years now.
For more than half of my life, they have been my constant companion.
I have learned how to pretend I am fine.
I have learned how to seem as though I am doing well.
Because of that, I have managed to preserve many relationships.
But sometimes I wonder what any of it means.
I wonder if what I truly wanted was isolation.
I wonder what attachments I still have left.
There is no version of myself capable of holding me back anymore.
And I find myself asking where I am supposed to go from here.
How much more determination am I supposed to summon?
Was the path my doctor introduced me to really the only answer all along?
I do not cherish myself.
I do not love myself.
Perhaps this planet was always too generous a place
for someone like me to live in peace.