Falling is the essence of a flower | Suicide is a Reality

Sunday, July 19, 2015

"A small night storm blows saying 'Falling is the essence of a flower'
Preceding those who hesitate."
Yukio Mishima

I was meaning to post something about this issue ever since I've read about Julia Buencamino's suicide. I was waiting for a reason for me to blog about it and I guess watching Sala Samobójców (Suicide Room) was the answer (this blog post's title was from the movie). I wanted to talk about it before things go out of hand.

Suicide was, is and never will be a trend. It is a reality. Bullying is a reality. Discrimination is a reality. Depression is a reality. You might think that the words you say will go away in time, that the person will get over it someday, you're dead wrong. Those things NEVER goes away. It will never leave. I've been there. I've been through nights and nights of crying, trying to force myself to forget about it, but it never did. It was a battle that I'll never win. It was a reality that I could never run away from. It was something that I'll always have to face.

At a very young age, I was always told to grow-up. I can still remember the time when I wasn't allowed to go out because I had to study, I had to get good grades, I had to. For 19 years, all I was doing was to impress my parents, to make them proud, and every time, I failed. I even wrote it on my skin. Yes. I'm a cutter. Call me names but the truth will remain, wounds heal the emotional pain. It wasn't until recently that I've resorted to cutting again. It was the worst one thus far. I was questioning my existence. I was questioning everything I did and didn't do. I was crying again. Shaking. I was on the brink of killing myself. I held the razor towards my skin, and said to myself "There's no turning back" The serene feeling of a blade running through your wrist was nostalgic. I broke into tears again. It wasn't deep enough to kill me, but deep enough to bleed my pain. I broke into tears again. I wanted to cut deeper. But as I made the second cut, I chickened out. After the second cut started bleeding, things began to subside. I was still crying but I wasn't hurting anymore. I guess that's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt. Does it ring a bell? On a serious note, I was having thoughts about suicide.

The thing about these kind of thoughts is that it never goes away. It will never leave you. There was I time that I thought I was free from them and then all of a sudden, I got depressed and it was there again. It happened to me every night since that incident. It was at that moment that I began fearing for myself. I was afraid to be alone - again. I was afraid of thinking - again. Everything that I tried to runaway from was right in front of me - again. The reality about suicidal thoughts is either you're weaker or the thoughts are stronger every time it comes back. It was a battlefield. My mind was a battlefield. And each time, I'm caught unaware, unguarded. It's only a matter of time till I lose it. I'm not as strong as what people see me to be. I'm weak. People who cut are weak, but the people who commit suicide are brave. On a suicidal standpoint, doing it requires so much bravery.

I can only explain things to you so much but you'll never be able to see, hear or feel what we feel. Not unless you experience what we've been through or is going through. Careful what you say, your words are sharper than the blades they use to cut. Words can kill. Sticks and stones can break bones, but words can kill a person. My scars remind me of my story. This is a reality.

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