suicide is not an option – 7


Childhood: memories of the past long forgotten; a box full of memories that can either be thrown away or kept. Her box of memories where empty, simply because she didn’t want to remember, she didn’t want to get hurt by it. When something negative happens to her life, she instantly tries to forget it; it was her defense mechanism, forgetting everything that hurt her. That’s how she lived her life, carefree. She was good at it, no strings attached, no heartache, no problems.

At the office, lots of people bitch around her, she just lets them be, she doesn’t care anymore, she lost her sense of care long ago when she was a child, she became numb. She gave false expressions to everyone who ever knew her, even to herself. She didn’t show any feelings. Her feelings were monotonous, always the same smile everyday, the same routine, the same frown. She gave what they wanted to receive, she acted with the way which was expected of her, and she never defied the rules, always playing it safe.

The one thing that ever came close to her was herself who didn’t even knew her so well, her book of thoughts that was drowned with work, work, work, she didn’t know herself anymore.

Her book which never left its place for more than 2 years was inside her dresser covered by all her clothes. She used this book as a therapy, some way of relieving herself from the pain she always felt, a way of getting lost. She wrote all her thoughts in this book, poetries, short stories, lesson learned from past experiences and others. But after she had him, her boyfriend, she never got the chance to get it out, simply because she was happy with him, so she thought. She didn’t realize that she needed the book more than her boyfriend, that her boyfriend alone can’t help her, can’t support all her problems, he doesn’t even know that she has problems, he always thought that everything was fine, he was so insensitive. In those two years, she thought her boyfriend was the answer to all her problems, she thought she was the solution, she was blinded by what she felt, she lost herself in the process, she lost everything in exchange of him, in exchange of being close to him, in exchange for his time. She had a boyfriend who was a workaholic. The book, where this story came from is still in her dresser, she still looks at it. Still wonders when it will be discovered and who will discover it.


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