Mentions of sh, s-icide, and religion

Sometimes I wonder when I died.

I have a bad memory so timelines and everything are all messed up.

And I’m not talking about actual death, just more metaphorical.

Death of hope, of your soul, of the spark inside of you.

That moment where you realise that you’re just existing.

Maybe it was when I was 17 and landed myself in hospital.

Maybe it was when I was 16 and my friend k-led himself.

Maybe it was when I was 15 and made a silent attempt in my bathroom.

Maybe it was when I was 13 and started to regularly self harm.

Maybe it was when I was 12 and my step dad left.

Maybe it was when I was 10 and I self harmed for the very first time.

Maybe it was when I was born. Small, vulnerable and greatly unwanted.

Maybe I’ve been doomed from the start, unfair beginnings and all that. Maybe I wasn’t ever meant to be someone, just a mistake in the grand scheme of things.

I’m not a religious person, I don’t believe in a God. I know a lot about it though, I understand it too. People latch onto religion becuase it’s something safe, sturdy in a world that is the opposite.

It’s a list of rules, ways to be, act. It makes life simple, easy, well, as easy as it can be. I understand is what I’m saying, to a degree.

Now if there is a God, I still wouldn’t have faith in him. People claim that a child surviving cancer is a miracle yet that negates the doctors, the nurses, the family and the child.

God, if real, isn’t a kind man. He’s sadistic, watching as his ‘children’ tear each other apart. Watches as innocent bystanders are killed, watches as people suffer from others mistakes.

People were given free will, and maybe it’s in our nature to take advantage of it but why should newer generations have to take those burdens on?

Why should I carry the weight of my parents mistakes? Why should I be the creation of a mistake?

Too many questions, too many things unknown and it frustrates me. I’m here, alive yet not living despite my efforts. I’m here, against my own will, having to act and perform every single day.

It’s exhausting, I’m exhausted.

Then I wonder, what if I was raised properly? A good childhood, supportive loving parents. Would I be different now? Or the exact same?

Was I always doomed, or did life just fkc me over?