So it is time that I feel I need to be honest with myself. I have always been suicidal. Several times in my life I tried to take my own life only to chicken out after I fail at so many attempts. When I was young and a kid it was fear that kept me from doing it. When I was a teen it was a delusion that I was nature/god’s plaything that he enjoyed making suffer so to me there was no point in trying to take my life anymore.
(I grew up with a low self-esteem complex. I think it was because my parents couldn’t get along and subconsciously as a kid I thought it had to do with me. (I know now that their relationship failing had very little to do with me.) My Father was in the military and he eventually had to go on a tour type thing overseas. He, being a single parent at the time couldn’t take me with him so I lived with my Grandma. (Someone that shouldn’t have been taking care of anybody.) So I did what I wanted and became feral. Worse, in school, my teachers took the position that I was a lost cause & will never amount to anything added I lived in the projects being the only Asian kid and back then Asians and Africans didn’t like each other. So I was bullied just being 8 years old. I learned to hate and became a very angry kid on top of that my Grandma died. So this whole experience in my childhood was the backbone towards my decent.)
My Grandma’s Brother took me in and the first time in my life I had some stability in my life. I developed social anxiety and was disciplined properly to set me towards the right road, This wasn’t enough to save me from my own darkness though. (Around this time is when I started to try to take my own life. Yet it was a time of many lovely memories I have of what little I can recall.) I was a people pleaser and had issues over people that didn’t like me. I wanted everybody to like me. Eventually, my Father returned from overseas and I returned with him.
Now my family isn’t rich. Matter of fact many of us were poor. So we had to live with my late grandmother’s sister for a couple of years. (Very dark years.) Bullying became an issue again and worse around 11 years old I was molested by a woman my family knew well. It messed me up, puberty seemed to have been triggered because of the incidents. I adopted a hateful demeaning outlook towards women that I gradually adopted as I became a teen (which was interesting as I looked back on it since a lot of my friends were girls.) I had a weird dream that was a daydream that happened in the afternoon. It was a nightmare that just sent me rolling into a fearful, depressing rollercoaster of life of self-loathing. (Here my suicide attempts increased plus I developed a habit of burning myself after experimenting on cutting.) I started to fight myself. I started to hate everyone gradually and with the bullying, in middle school, it came to the head that I broke out of the mold of being a people pleaser. I still wanted people to like me (to think that I was cool). Never happened. I had acquaintances, but no friends. I was afraid every day with the bullying and hid it by being a class clown (more of a jackass). It wasn’t until the last two years of High school that I established my Loner/rebel persona. I put on a bit like I had High Self Esteem and liked myself. That I was king of the world & fuck whoever didn’t agree. When I graduated, I looked okay. People thought that I was okay. I was driven insane. I became a Narcissist (Semi-Covert style) and I only looked out for me. I was going to get mine any way that I could and let God have mercy on anyone that got in my way. (A real scumbag if you will. On my way to Federal prison.)
Nature took its course, I was driven insane by my life and circumstances lead me to be psychologically evaluated. It hit me hard when I was diagnosed with a mental illness. It made me take a cold hard look in the mirror and I sobered up. I didn’t like who I was, what I became, and now a whole new experience to deal with turned my life upside down. It was a Godsend.)
Now here I am in my 30s, I thought that I escaped the darkness that enveloped my life. (Suicide, I can’t even say the word without sneering.) I did a good job making everybody in my life think I was put together and well off to do. I went through all the stages: Hopelessness, Self-loathing, Worthliness, Hating, Angry, Pity, Loneliness and you name it I’ve been practically through them all. I silently am suffering. When the New year came around I got a temporary reprieve. Now I sit here numb. I am not going to do it because I have so many issues I want to resolve. I have so many people that I want to give a middle finger to (including some family members) yet I know that in the end. My warfare with my suicidal tendencies is a loss. I don’t like leaving things unresolved. I have a bucket list to complete. I finally got to the phase, stage (whatever you want to call it) where I know my life is going to end by my own hand (not today) and I am numb to everything. I am determined to complete the Bucket list knowing what I will do and it is like not anything. My life is numb, and worse I experienced love, excitement, joy only to come to this point. I can only deem myself incapable to love myself. I can love other people even care about them. Be concerned about them. I cannot sympathize, empathize or feel anything towards me. I am alone (even with people I care about with me) and I am fine with being alone.
I really don’t know why I made this post or what the point of it truly was. I know that I wanted to use it to feel something towards me even pity or anger or hate. I don’t. (Maybe it might be helpful to someone.)