Today I nearly attempted to take my own life.

I was on the train station, having had recently gotten off the train. I wanted so badly to jump off the platform and onto the tracks. It was exhausting to suppress the thoughts that slowly eats through my mind.

Getting out of the train station, I could barely stop myself from running straight into traffic. My mind was a dull whir, like a broken machine. I couldn’t hear any of my thoughts, I couldn’t even think clearly. The only thing I could picture was my body, badly mangled and bloody after a train ran over me. I could only hear car horns, as I run right in front of a speeding car.

What will it matter? I thought. Are things even worth holding on for tomorrow? A year from now? Twenty years from now?

Loneliness is a dangerous poison.

Odorless, colorless. I was laughing, I talked on, I told jokes. I hugged people. I didn’t realize how loneliness haunts me still, how it still weighs down on me. It crept on and on until it came for me right when I least expect it.

Then it suffocated me. Even when so many people are surrounding me, right now; fifty, or maybe sixty years from now, I’d still die alone in my apartment room that I live in all by myself. 

So does it matter if I die today or twenty years or fifty years from now?

Yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was a coward.

I don’t know how long I’ll stay as one.


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