August 3, 2017


This post may or may not shock you, but I just have to let this out.

I have been having thoughts about suicide. Just thoughts, not voices. But I haven't had the urge to act on it. And that's great, I guess.

I didn't tell anyone about it because I thought it's something I can push aside and not think about, and hope that it will get suppressed after some time. The thoughts don't come knocking on my mind everyday. It's sporadic. Sometimes it just stops by to remind me that it's still hanging around. And sometimes, it will knock on my door until I open it to make sure its presence is known. The thing that I hate the most about it is that it doesn't come at night now, it comes anytime it wants.

I live on the 6th floor and it provides me an amazing view of the sunrise and sunset. I love it so much. It's one of the reasons why I still wanted to continue renting this house. But it's also quite dangerous. Why? Because there are times when I think about  the odds of me being dead if I jump off from the 6th floor. Will I die or will I live? What if I continue to live? I'm gonna feel the pain of that big leap. I'll get hospitalized. My parents are gonna be devastated. I will feel my broken bones and my broken soul in a living body. But what if I just jump? What if that jump kills me instantly? What if?