sWell (shakewell) wrote,
sWell
shakewell

  • Mood:

six-year-old girls are supposed to want barbie dream houses

i still remember the first time i ever tried to do it. i stabbed at my arms with a yellow #2 pencil for hours. the lead was gone from the tip and the jagged edges only scratched my skin. my dad was watching television and i was hanging over the back of that ugly brown sofa trying to make him see me.

i'm not sure where i even got the idea. i certainly had no understanding of veins or arteries. i probably saw it in a movie. obviously, i didn't even understand the difference between blunt and sharp objects,  but somehow i realized the drama attached to that fateful act and i wanted to act it out.

back then, it was all about the attention. i know i didn't understand the concept of death at all. i can't remember if it was before or after my grandfather died, but even after that i still didn't comprehend the finality of death, the permanence.

my wrists didn't even bleed that night and no one noticed a thing. the ordeal made me a little hopeless that i would ever be able to get the attention i needed. i went to bed and thought about how next time i would have to do better, to stab harder, to scratch deeper.

six-year-old girls aren't supposed to want to kill themselves, but for some reason i did. or i thought i did. it was an act of desperation. i can't claim to understand it now. i'm sure i didn't understand it then.

i wonder if things would be different now if my dad had looked over to see me. would i be better off or worse? it's hard to say. but i'm glad i still remember that night. it was a major turning point in my life. looking back on it now, it lends an interesting perspective on my current situation.

Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 0 comments