Persuasion

There was a small four chest of drawers beside my desk filled with things that are considered trash in my mom's eye. Although, it's really just differently labeled garbage.

In one of the layers on that drawer, a notebook was hidden among other notebooks and papers.

It was used as a list, maybe a reminder, a documentary, or it could have been a proof. That surely I was still sane.

Yes, it could still be perceived that my thoughts written on that notebook with a much degree of organized words can be considered written by a sane person.

Or was it?

Was my sanity during those times just an illusion?

The first page was left blank on purpose.

Followed by a bible verse on the second.

I couldn't remember what was written even though I chose which verse it was.

That notebook was supposed to be used as my bible journal, as I was once what we called a 'servant of the Lord', which was left unused and forgotten.

Until I started using it, then writing how many attempts I tried ending my life.

When it reached the fifth attempt, I stopped recording it.

On my garbage-filled desk, there was a plastic rack organizer. Pens, pencils, markers, paintbrush, anything that are used for writing and coloring are gathered there. Journals and sketchbooks that I didn't have time to hide inside the drawer are left in the open.

And within those seemingly disorganized things, a small pink cutter blade, which I once bought in an art store, can be found. It was bought for the purpose of not using it as an art material.

My attempts weren't severe enough to make me lose consciousness and wake up on a hospital bed the next day. It was just small cuts added everyday.

Before I could even make a deep cut, my head started ringing some warning bells.

"You shouldn't do it."

"Let's make it look like an accident."

"No, let's just do it!"

"The blade is too small, use the knife hidden on the cabinet."

"Just die already!"

"Start counting!"

3

2

1

There were only several small cuts.

Somehow, it became a habit. Self-inflict became a part of my breakdowns.

Every time I felt suffocated by my own existence, I would end up bashing my head on my bedroom wall, choking myself, and doing things that made me feel pain. Which was an indication to me that I'm alive. I'm still alive.

I suddenly wanted to be noticed by someone. Someone who would notice those several wounds on my wrist during the time I was in the church.

Or during dinner, eating with the whole family.

Someone.

The cuts are basically noticeable, how come no one noticed?

Someone.

"Aren't you just seeking attention by doing that?"

"We should just die quietly."

"What have you been waiting for this whole time? No one's gonna come."

"Wake up! No one noticed because you're worthless"

"Why am I worthless?"

"Should I just die right now?"

"But we have to make a plan! Let's make it look like an accident!"

I was ready at some point. There were a lot of different ways, from suffocation to car accident. From poison to using a shotgun.

I had it all planned. Executing it was the hardest part.

"Am I still sane?"

I suddenly started wondering.

Then that year came like an earthquake, shaking me through the core.

My grandfather died.

November 11,2021.

That's when I started noticing my depression.

I didn't know I was depressed.

I wasn't entirely aware of my own emotions.

I became desperate at some point.

Something within me cracked and I stopped functioning properly. All that was left was a void and I grew tired of breathing each day. Memories became so blurry that I couldn't remember anything but laying on my bed.

How can someone who's suicidal not notice that they're depressed?!

"Just die"

"Stop breathing already"

"Let's die before Christmas"

"No shit! It's almost New Year! I thought we had it all planned?!"

"Let's die on New Year then!"

"How come you're not dead yet?!"

I failed.

Within all of these voices, something was stopping me.

I couldn't do it.

I suddenly felt calm deciding my own death, giving random reasons like saving up money for my own funeral expenses.

Then finally persuading myself to give myself time.

"Hey... Let's just have another year. Just another year would be enough to decide again. Just one more year, okay?"

Another year passed by.

And I'm still persuading myself for one more year.

Let's have another year again.

Just one more year.