I Feel Like Dying; Excerpts From a Lunatic’s Journal (3)


I drove by Third Mainland Bridge today.

The water looked inviting.

I parked my car a couple of times along the stretch. But I was too scared to walk close to the edge of the bridge.

I’ve been thinking a lot about life. My purpose? Why I’m on earth? It doesn’t make any sense. It never has. I continue to search. I feel lost. I feel alone.

Why can’t anyone hear me screaming through these smiles? Why can’t they hear me fighting to stay alive? Oh, I’m just being selfish. Everyone has their life to live, I guess.

It’s crazy of me to think of diving into that never-ending water. But sometimes I hear it calling out to me. I hear it promising me heights of ecstasy and peace of mind that I will not experience here.

I do not want to be another statistic.

But aren’t we all?




I Feel Like Dying; Excerpts From a Lunatic’s Journal (1)


I have two knives on my bed.


One to carefully and precisely carve out the deep-seated, soul-shattering pain I feel in my heaving chest; and the other, well, for emotional support while I slowly carve.


In the past hour, I have caressed my left palm with the tip of each of the knives’ shiny blades at least twenty times, daring the unthinkable. It is amazing what comfort each knife brings to my spirit.


The knives stare at me invitingly from the comfort of my soft grey duvet. The air conditioner whirs gently in the distance but I hear them clearly. I hear them gently calling out to me and reminding me of the heights of ecstasy they have promised. I hear them promising me so much, I am certain that undoing what I have started is impossible. Most importantly, I hear them promising me silence.


Deafening silence...

Crazy. Mad. Lunatic. Idiot. Crazy. Out of Control. Restless. Chaotic. Lunatic.