Suicidal

I paint the floor red through the fluid that leaks from the cuts on my wrist. As I wait for my life to meet its end, memories swarm into my brain like a movie. I’m watching my own life. Sure, things didn’t work out well for me and life has been cruel to me but then as life itself slowly escapes my living body, the good things started to flash into my mind. The cheerful memories replaced the sad ones and I’m back with my joyous moments. I thought about my parents, my siblings, my friends. How I promised my little brother I’d be his protector while he’s young. How I swear to my sister I’d be her maid of honor at her wedding. How I smiled and let my parents believe I was fine. How I usually tell my friends “Everything’s gonna be okay.” I thought about how I promise myself to get stronger and yet here I am –drowning in misery and too coward to put up a fight with the trials I am faced. And then it hit me–I wanted to change. However, death could not help me change anything. Shame, how I can be easily defeated and lured by death. Stupid, how I thought death would make it better when it would only make it worse. Funny, how by death which was to save me in my temporary earthly life would be the cause of my unending suffering in eternal life.
Now I want to live so badly. I tried to stop the bleeding but my hands are too weak to aid the cut. I want to live, I whispered. Help me! I cried. I want to live…I want to live…I want to…I want… I…

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