Letter to Myself

So I was just watching TeensReact to Amanda Todd’s vid; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VF6cmddWOgU
I was reading all the “The sad part is…” type of comments and here’s what I think.

The sad part is that this girl gave up.

We all live sad, miserable, fucked up lives where bad and unfair shit happens to us.

We even get bad shit coming our way that we deserve.

But the strong and adaptive carry on, the weak give up.

She may have been a sweet girl, but she wasn’t a good person and she wasn’t a strong one either.

Suicide is sad, but no matter what reasons or excuses we have, in the end, it’s our choice on what we decide.

Someone can have a gun to your head and tell you to kill yourself and you can either fight back or give in.

Someone can have a gun to someone’s head whom you love or care about or is innocent and you can still make a choice.

You can choose to fight, run, or die.

Everything is your choice.

Even not paying bills and taxes, sure there are consequences but it’s your choice.

No one can you force you to do anything, you let them.

Take back your life and don’t let others dictate what you can and cannot do.

It’s your life, you only have one; live it.

Two Poems in One

I find myself wondering where our life goes,

We hide and lie about what we have deep down inside,
It sickens us and twists us into shapes so atrocious,

A tainted razor seems to hold the key,

Just another another self deceit,
A silly fake cheat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

I wake up at night remembering the horrors of childhood,

Father likes to bend our naked bodies over his knees,
He wears nothing but boxers and a dictated smile on his face,

Mother isn’t ever there; lost in her own prayer,

It’s not the pain that hurts,
But how father looks at us,

I see a gleam in his eye and it gives me chills,

Here it comes again; he likes to pretend I’m his girlfriend,
I’m done, I’m spent, he’s going to get it,

Death is the only thing that awaits him, no love, just a pool of his blood.

Pain Again

lost_in_the_dark

I feel so helpless.

I don’t know what to do.

My chest ignites with fever.

My vision snaps inward.

All I see is ash.

Decay from what once was.

Again I’m left abandoned.

To fade & crumble within.

What am I going to do.

All I am is gone.

I grasp my tainted razor.

And lead it to my skin.

The blade bites my soul.

Sanguine flares up from within.

Taking out the torment.

I inhale a ragged breath.

Feeling sober once again.

But it’s never over.

And my pain is never gone.

The Pain

 

Hey…

    I cut myself. Sometimes I cry. But crying doesn’t seem to release the build up. It’s a pain I can’t control. I know it’s mental.. but it feels physical. It’s this struggle, inside my body…

    It starts from my heart. Like it’s being corroded by acid. There’s this pressure, this tension, like a tainted, poisoned vine. It expands in every inch of my body and soul, biting off my life. The barbed wires circle around my chest until it feels as if my lungs were collapsing in on themselves. I feel like I can’t breathe…

    I’m choking, a hazy cloud begins to cover my eyes. I realize they’re tears… I’m gasping for breath but it won’t stay in… I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, I’m shaking and sweating, I feel faint and slow, I try to shake myself out of it but to no avail.. My mind begins to blur and race, it’s blinding everything together. I’m outside of my body now, I can see what’s happening, yet can’t stop it. Is this me or someone else?

    She’s rocking on her feet. Is she going to fall? Her body feels like it’s being thrown in lava then dumped in ice. Her mind is corrupting as her soul goes dark, her heart is blinded from the vile within. She’s trapped with no way out. “What’s going on?” a small part existing in her says. “God help me.” She pleads to the person she’s been told to ask for in times like these.. but there’s no answer from this imaginary figment. She’s left, yet again, to be all alone. To figure it out, all on her own.

    All she can see is red, at the edges of her vision it starts to blacken. She’s scared to die. She’s being smothered by the world, everything is crushing her. She can’t hold on much longer. She wants to scream but it won’t come out. She’s so frightened of what’s going on. She’s so confused and feels so alone. The earths gravity grabs her, pulls her down into the pits of hell.

    I attain with horrendous clarity, that this girl, is me. I’m suffocating and drowning. “Help!” I gurgle, but hear nothing but a cut off squeak.

    … I have no choice, I race to where I hide it.. I don’t want it, but I can’t breathe… I snatch up the hidden bag with my razor in it… and as I pierce my skin, I see red droplets of blood erupt forth. One isn’t enough, I slice again and again and again. I don’t care if I’ll scar.Twenty or so slashes later and finally, the strain is gone, the craziness is gone. Relief rushes over me. I feel such euphoria, as if my body has ascended to the heavens. I’m able to breathe again, to live again….

    But the causes of my panic are not gone. Cutting doesn’t help solve them or diminish them. I know that, but I don’t know what else to do. Sometimes my day will start off with wild panic and terror…..

    I need help. I need a better solution. I can’t do this on my own, I’m too ashamed to ask for help. Who will take me sincerely? Who will listen? Who will help? I’m running out of options. My emotions get the best of me… I still think of just killing myself and ending it all. At least that way, I will not have to stress over things or be a burden to others….

~ Amanda Kathleen Hoffman