I can’t recall when and why I wanted to die. I do remember how and where I went about my foolish attempt though. It was in my father’s library, which later became my room once I entered high school. So, I’m guessing it happened when I was in junior high.

I locked myself in my father’s study. Crying, most likely. The only sharp thing I could find was a box of staples. I went on to scraping my wrist with it. But I was too chicken to go deep and it hurt. I was only able to leave small cat scratch like marks. What a wimp!

What went on in my head was mostly wishing the people who hurt me would feel sorry if I disappeard. For good.

I guess, at the time, I just needed to cry it out. Like I still do sometimes.

But the girl who tried to cut her wrists with a paper staple, could’ve used a warm hug from the woman she grew up to be.

Because the woman she is now knows that suicide is a selfish deed.

Taking God’s Right into one’s hands.

Denying His Plan. Denying other people’s feelings. Other people’s lives after the loss.