Do I Want to Die?

Warning: contains a depiction of suicide ideation, self-harming and suicide.

My failed suicide attempt in 2017 is one of the few things that left a big impact on my life. I have always been a suicidal person, and that time was my rehearsal that simply went a bit too far.

When I woke up in the hospital room and saw my crying mother, the first thing that came to my mind was: Oh shit, I survived.
I remember it was not a feeling of gratitude that I felt when I woke up, rather it was a devastating one. After some time, I began crying out of frustration. It was horrible, and my arms and head hurt so much.

But it was not because of the pain, and not because I wanted to die. I cried because I’m frustrated that there’s still a part in me that felt relief after surviving that. That’s why I cried. That’s why I was so frustrated. That’s why I was so upset I survived.

When I told people about it, they would tell me, “You’re lucky you survived.”

Am I???

It’s true I also felt relief because I survived, but the dominant feeling of wanting to die is not something that I can easily ignore. It was way too overwhelming, too intense.

I have always thought that I can always try to end myself again. Easy peasy, I thought to myself, because I have already done it anyways — though it failed.

Years later, I began self-harming myself again in 2020. It was not because of the pandemic, I just think it was the right time for me to do it — the pandemic is the perfect excuse for me to die. So I began to hurt myself with the intention of dying.

But after only a few scratches, my hands began to tremble so bad. The one emotion that I never felt when I was harming myself, suddenly came to the surface.


It was fear that I felt, and made me throw the knife out of reflect when I see red everywhere. I was genuinely felt scared and the stinging sensations on my skin is killing me.

After experiencing happiness again since my failed attempted suicide, seems like it made me have an attachment to life. I have become scared to leave my mother, I was scared my cats would be starved without me, I was scared that no one would protect my sisters like I did, and I was scared to leave this world when One Piece still hasn’t ended yet.

I was scared, but I wanted to die, but I also want to live.

Or maybe, I just don’t want to live like this.

I maybe just wanted someone to save me. Like what my family and best friends did to me. They gave me … a reason to cling to this life.

So … do I want to die?

I don’t know. Even now, I still don’t know the answer.





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