I’m considering suicide, not as an escape, not as an adventure, not even as a relief, just as an option like going to class tomorrow or choosing to take the bus or a cab. I’m actually surprised at this now I recall it, other times I had seen it as grand finale, this time was just an option it wasn’t dramatic, it was just something I could do.
People are still shocked when they realize how deeply I loathe myself. I guess they don’t understand it... if it’s hard living with someone you hate; it’s even harder to live being someone you hate.
I keep wishing people would someway analyze me and somehow fix me.... but that isn’t going to happen.
There is a word in Spanish, I have not yet managed to translate to English: "pudor". It refers to a virtue. The virtue of protecting ones intimacy, spiritual, emotional and physical, and sharing it only with those who are close to us... keeping information about ourselves secret, sometimes through shame, but not always because it’s shameful but because its sacred.
Therefore, someone who shares too much, like me here, lacks this virtue, meaning he does not value the person he/she is. Exposing without any restraints who we are to anyone who passes by with no kind of protection or care… is definitely someone who does not treasure anything inside him worth protecting or saving.
It’s been over 5 years and I still can’t re-read whatever I write in this stupid journal. Because I hate every single word of it... I can’t stand any of these thoughts or feelings... this is why grammar and syntax suck and that’s why typos blossom...
The truth is I know all this, I’ve analyzed myself in and out all my life... sometimes I feel that there’s actually two "versions of me struggling (if not more) and I find myself asking "what are you going to do?", "why do you hate me so much?"
Sometimes I’m close to believe I can actually slip... and lose my mind... so I don’t allow myself to answer any of those questions... nor think of who is it that’s really asking them.
(11 days late)
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