Welcome to letter number seven. So far, you've had the honor of knowing some of my darkest secrets and fears. But, thread carefully from here on out. Nothing is how it seems in my head. Welcome to the dark place I call my head and thoughts. Some might even call it Wonderland.
Music has saved my life time and time again, I'm surprised I'm not dead yet.
You guys know how many times I have wanted to kill myself but never had the guts to do it? Do you guys know how many suicide notes I've written only to tear them up? How many times I have thought about ways to kill myself? There was too much on the line. There is a fine line between seeking attention and really wanting to die. Like, I could be 99.9% sure I want to die but that 0.1% keeps me here every time because of something I would miss if I was gone. It's so hard to fake a smile everyday when you really want nothing more than to take a old razor blade, that I've unscrewed from a pencil sharpener, and just stare at it and wonder how being dead would feel.
For example, if I was held at gun point and the murderer asked me for one last word, I would say "thanks" because he's doing something I would of been too scared to do to myself. You could kill me and with my last breath I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt.
Music is a beautiful thing. I can just plug in my headphones, lay down on my bed, and pretend to not exist for that moment. I'll listen to my entire playlist and find my peace. It's brought me down from so many highs and I am forever grateful for finding music when I did. If I didn't find music, I would be six-feet under, leaving behind a grieving mother and father, confused siblings, and devastated friends.
Now, don't get me confused with suicidal because I don't think about killing myself all the time...just sometimes. When I joke about suicide I feel better joking about it than actually saying how I feel.
Don't read this and think I need professional help. I definitely don't need that.
Congrats, you made it through letter seven. Now we venture on.
