They say that truth hurts, but I say it is the best medicine you can ever ask for in your life. Every day I wake up and wish I owned a pistol so that I could blast my brains out. Every day I have to fight my suicidal thoughts because I don’t want to hurt my family. Every time when I’m standing on the balcony I always think of jumping and just end my life.
I always pray to God to take me, maybe I will be in a better place and finally find peace within my heart and soul. How do therapists fix a broken and the deepest wounded soul? Every day I have to deal with a mental breakdown. I’ve been attending different therapists and taking depression pills but they aren’t helping.
How do you tell your family that you just wish to die, you’re broken beyond repair and that you see no reason to live? I looked at my wrist and thighs that I always cut when I’m feeling empty. They look like a piece of paper that is damaged; physical pain is much better than emotional pain. I go look at myself in the mirror and I see pain in my eyes.
I’m on my way to an abounded house where I will meet the guy who will supply me with a pistol. Inside the house I see a guy sitting at the corner of the room and I just place a stack of money. He gives me a fully loaded pistol and I smile for the first time after the incident that broke me.
I drive back home, the whole family is here. I just greet with a smile plastered on my face and head to my room. I get here I take a paper and start writing a suicide note.
Firstly, I want to thank you for raising me up and making the effort of getting me the help I need. I love you so much, grandma. I will miss you, your food, heart-warming hugs, and your motivational words. But this is the end of my journey in life. I can’t live while I feel dead on the inside. I just want to join grandpa and be happy because I know I will be happy with him.
Your daughter and her wealthy husband are the reason behind my pain. Did they tell you how he suddenly became ‘wealthy’? I bet they didn’t! Let me tell you they sold me to the well-known family, the Richards. I’m not married to their son or whatever. They own a prostitution ring. I was a prostitute at the age of eight-years-old. Do you know how many man I slept with? I would need a week to count them. Some were old enough to be my grandpa.
I’m broken sweetheart, and beyond repair my love. Therapy and pills can’t fix me. I’m tired of living. I feel dirty, I can’t even look at myself in the mirror without noticing the sadness that lies in my eyes. An old man forcefully took my virginity. The nightmares I had to endure are just too much for me. My parents killed me.
Forgive me grandma, I will forever love you, you will always have a special place in my broken heart and thank you for showing me love and affection. I will always be grateful for that.
I have one last wish: When you bury me, don’t cry. I want to leave in peace, please don’t look at my body, it’s damaged. Lastly get me a white coffin and write whatever you want to write.
I will tell grandpa you said you love and miss him.
Ezamahlase Lindsey Graham”
BAM! BAM! BAM!
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As FunDza we care very deeply about the safety of all our readers and writers. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to people when you feel this desperate. LifeLine has a free number you can call to speak to someone who can help: call 0861 322 322 or 021 461 1111.