"  I never thought I would die on a Sunday..." is what ran through my mind as I paced the 3rd floor terrazzo floor of my old apartment building.


Life, the messed up bubble of lies and misunderstanding that it is, finally bit me hard enough in my ass.
It is said, "What screws us up the most in life is the picture of what it's supposed to be."

I have to say, that has pretty much been my entire problem in life.
It really just sums up everything that ever went wrong with me.

Today was the most tragic for me.  I learnt lessons the hard way and I lost the love of my life, not to death... but by me. I was the root of our downfall. I made my hay and now I have to lie in it.

Many could say that there are so many ways to evade this, this feeling of mourning, this silence; this death within me.

My insides have been eroded because all I ever was filled up with was love. Ever since I met him, that love of mine, now called my ex, I knew that there would be no one else or not a thing in the world or the universe that would replace him. his eyes, his weirdly dormant acne on his beautiful face, which reminded me of strawberries all the time. I have never even told him that; and I love strawberries.

My own lack of control, wallowing in self pity, hurt, anger, frustration stemming from the spoilt, selfish brat within me, clueless of the struggles of real life.

Unknown to me, was the skill in which one had to acquire to put on a brave face everyday, suit up and face the world. The rule I learnt today, was to never let someone know how you actually feel on the inside, some people would not be able to handle it, and at the end of the day, there would be a Judas. I repeat, there will be a Judas. Be warned.


I tried to end my life today.

Complete failure!


There are many ways in which the person can execute this task, but for some reason, I classically chose the knife from the second bottom door in the kitchen. A butterknife.... pretty sharp one tho.

There I was, on the ground by the bathroom, suffocating in my tears, in my pain; in my inevitable destruction of myself. Inside and out.

Emotions lept out of me like a raging volcano that was contained by a force, struggling to contain the molten lava from dancing it's fire all over the apartment. I was that force. My mind, heart and body.

My weakness had prevailed.

I began attempting to cut my wrist. My left wrist. In my mind, this had played out sooo well. One cut, slice slice and it would be over. I would be happily be filled in my own pool of blood, love being my greatest weakness and major downfall. My end was approaching.

To my ignorant surprise, the knife hurt like a ... like an actual knife slicing through fruit, but with veins and senses. It hurt so much! How stupid must I have thought taking your own life would be so easy? Wrong method I guess. But I was already there, so I tried again, slicing another portion of my wrist. This kept on until I realised how futile my efforts were. I was not serious about this! I was an egg.. just like what my ex called me... "an egg". Fragile, stupid and not much intelligence going on on the inside.

Sitting there, I looked down at this rusty knife, my joint of marijuana and my yellow lighter.

I felt the apartment of millions of memories crashing down on me. The walls felt like they were enclosing on me, I was wishing that that was the case. Maybe then I would die? Properly too.

I could see it on the news. Sigh, Not gonna happen.

As I glanced my semi barely cut wrist with it's five slashes of weakness, I felt the most defeated and alone in my life.

Right now. I feel alone. No one ever took my depression seriously and all I can do now is sit and be numb.

The love of my life, does not want me.

And I do not want anyone else.

I destroyed us.

I destroyed me.