An Open Letter

The last time I interacted with my sister was over 4 months ago where she said congrats on your job, and I said “thanks” over text. Today was already a fucking really shit day. And then I came home and I was looking forward to spending time with friends and it was even worse. I kind of just got left by everyone except for J, I even bought T and L the game to play with us. And I just kind of got ignored, and then when I would die they would cheer and say that they were happy. I even told them I was having a really rough day and I was struggling. R texted me during it and said people want to be around me and that I can easily be loved. And that broke me. I just turned off my audio, muted my microphone and I just tried to distract myself so I wouldn't cry. No one fucking missed me, and the only time they acknowledged me was when they tried to push my character off so that I would die again and not be able to play for another 10 minutes or whatever. I died again and C said “good” and I just left. No one really seemed to care other than J. He called me and convinced me to play some more just with him. And then we played some Fall guys and we just talked. And I fell like someone cared if I was still here.

I have never been more surrounded by people, but also so alone. Today already broke me pretty hard, and then just now right before going to sleep I get a text from my sister. And then she asks me on a serious note if I don't like her reaching out. I'm already doing my best to hold on and not break down, and now I either have to lie to protect the peace again like I always fucking have to do, or I have to fucking deal with this full severance of this bridge now. And all of this on the day where I blocked someone for the first time, A. I blocked her number, and I blocked her on Instagram. And I hurt myself in the process by trying to be kind to her and instead again my trust gets broken.

And so I told my sister that I don't feel good when she reaches out. I told her that I've spent my entire life being both her and my mom’s punching bag, and that no one has stood up for me in our family. And so I don't want to take that anymore. No response.

The last time we did something as a family was in college when we went to Australia. In one of the hotels my sister didn't bring a charger and so she tried to take the one that I brought and I told her no because I brought it for me and I needed it, and so she threw the heavy charger at my head and I barely dodged it. I went to my parents and begged them to do something, to tell her not to do that at the least, and my mom started screaming at me saying how she should hang herself because she was overwhelmed. I begged my dad and he told me there was nothing he could do. I left my phone and everything and just walked out in the middle of a random country. I kept walking until I found the road and I planned to lay down in the dark until a car came and it hit me. I ended up sitting on a bench farther away and just broke down crying. I don't know how much time passed before my dad found me. I still feel guilty because it's not his job either to have to play peacekeeper for the family, but he was the only one that would possibly do it when I'm gone. And so he just sat with me and he didn't know what to say. He told me how he can't stop my sister and how she rules the family. And he just begged me to come back and eventually I did.

Part of me wishes I did follow through there. It scares me how I'm thinking about suicide again, and how it doesn't scare me. Normally I catch myself when I start to ideate. But I really want that comfort now of thinking about it. I could give Hash to my dad because I'm near him now, and then not let go of the accelerator. As long as I'm the only one that dies I don't mind, as long as Hash is taken care of. I wonder if he would even know I was never coming back. I don't think he would wait for me, and that thought made me breakout sobbing again.

I think whenever someone commits suicide it affects everyone around them and that sticks with them. But it's in a selfish way. I think people think about how that person must have been suffering, and how horrible of a thing that is. If there closer to that person they might think about how they get to interact with them again, or how they last interacted. And I think that's where it stops for me. I think the only person that would really miss me is my dad. I think he's the only one who would want me back. And it hurts me because he doesn't even know me. All I know is that he loves me unconditionally because I'm his son.

I keep thinking about that one line from that poem: I just want to enter a room and not slip through the cracks. J asked me if I was a nihilist, and I said I was. I truly don't think I have changed anything or I will. I've gone so many weeks and so many months without anyone taking time to look at me. I guess I'm just nothing of substance, the way that I've just fallen through all the cracks throughout life. Maybe I believe that other people matter, but I don't think I do. I know that I exist, and that I get to experience things. But I also think that nothing would really change if I was gone. I think the biggest impact I could have is killing myself, and the trauma and waves that that makes. But I think even then I would be forgotten fairly quickly. It's not like I'm a big part of anyone's life. I sometimes think about if something happened to me in my apartment, it might take weeks for anyone to notice. The only person that would eventually notice would be my dad. Maybe after a week he would send a text pinging me, and then he might come if I don't respond. And maybe a neighbor would smell something. But outside of that I don't think anyone would know. Do you know how terrifying of a thought that is? Not dying like that, but the belief that you could and that would all that's coming.

I was thinking today when driving home from work how I want to be strong for the younger me. Instead of a lighter load, wish for broader shoulders. I think about how no one knew I was in the hospital when I tried to kill myself my freshman year. No parents, no friends. I want to be strong for that me. No one should be alone there. But no one's coming, no one noticed and no one knew until the insurance billed my parents. That really reinforces in you how little you matter to the world around you. And how easily and quietly you can fall through the cracks.

I've begged and given everything I can to not be this way. But I'm not a strong person. Today was too much and it was nothing at all. But this was enough to push me to want to die again after all these years of being clean. My life is in such a good spot right now. And still here I am, fantasizing about killing myself again. All I can think about is how I want to say that I'm pathetic. How I just want to put myself down. And I know that that's not me thinking that along with the rest of these thoughts I hope. But fuck it sounds like me. And so it's really hard to know.