This is a piece of writing I did after just receiving a BPD diagnosis. It’s very personal but I wanted to share as I love hearing what people think about the writing I do. So please do chime in any thoughts or anything. Thank you for reading :)
I Killed Myself
That phrase has some beauty to it for me.
I’m not dead, neither do I wish to be.
When I’ve spent time wishing I died,
It was never that I didn’t want to live.
I want to live.
It’s more that I wanted a restart, a do-over.
Something to give me more meaning, less hurt, and a different perspective.
Being between dead and alive feels cold yet warm.
Grey but colourful.
New but familiar.
Now that I’m on the alive side, I realise I’m only here because I sacrificed something to change.
I sacrificed myself.
Part of me died through this suffering.
It had to.
I needed it to so I could progress.
People don’t realise when I say
“I want to die”
I don’t mean it maliciously towards myself.
Neither do I not.
It means I want to be different.
I want to kill this version of me and reset.
So when I say
“I want to die”
I mean
“I want to live better”
There’s a beauty to dying.
The suffering ends.
The pain doesn’t last forever.
It’s freedom at the ultimate price of life.
Sacrifice.
So I’ve killed myself tonight.
I’m free to decide what my new life will be like.
I’m done with the phrase
“I want to die”
It’s time to be alive, no matter how much suffering comes with that.
It’s worth it.
I thank my past self for killing himself for me.
I will live for you.
I killed myself tonight,
I am now reborn better.