I sometimes think about how I’d choose to die. I’m not afraid of dying, that’s the scary part. Will I take pills, slit my wrists, jump off of a building, or emulate my father, and drown? I attempted to commit suicide in 2019, after finding out the truth about my father’s death and that I was molested by a close family member. I overdosed. Is it bad of me that I sometimes wish I succeeded? I’ve loved and been loved in this life. I’ve felt all of what mundane life has to offer.
Almost everything.....
I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I wanted to love, protect, and give my kinds everything they want in life. I want to be a lawyer. To do everything in my power to help my clients; to positively impact the world. I also want to meet the love of my life, the one who shares the same dreams and makes me feel like the most important person in the world to them.
But a dream is a dream. If I can’t do this anymore, if my demon’s get the gray of me, I hope I will in my next life. My loved ones, my mom and dad, my boyfriend, friends, they will grieve me, but they will get over it. At least I hope so…because they did nothing wrong. I’m defective all on my own. I’m broken past the point of repair.
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