Personal Narrative: How Suicide Changed My Life

A façade on my face that hid a dark, a pain and nightmares filled, black hole that was killing me in the inside, one day just cracked and the demons of self harming and suicide broke loose in my room. I grabbed a sharp object, went to the end of my bed, slashed my flesh, believing the drained red blood released from my body and dropped was the trauma that came from constant family issues and school bullying. I was a vulnerable mouse trying to run away from the pernicious black cat who had me by the tail. I wished the cats had stop taunting me and just ate me, so I wouldn’t had to suffer the burden of them playing around with me. “To be or not to be,” contemplating suicide was both the weakest and strongest part of my life; by choosing “to be,” I know I chose the right path and learned that without dark, there is no light, without pain there is no happiness, and without nightmares there are no dreams; dreams that I wish to pursue and accomplish.

“Grandpa, grandpa, don’t leave!!” with a river of tears running down my swollen eyes, were my useless attempts to get my grandpa from not going back to Mexico, and this was the threshold where my life started to crumble. I
I heard that cutting yourself took the pain and suffer from people so I rolled up my pants to reveal my left thigh. I made the first cut and I could feel a chill down my back because of the blade but I could hardly feel the pain, so I made a second cut and that time I felt the cat claws in my skin, the agony and blood came out my thigh. I sat and didn’t think and after a while I got up, got some bandages to cover the cuts, and went to sleep crying softly. The next day I didn’t want to see the faces the people I hated the most during that time, so I said that I was not feeling well and I stood at my house. The best news I got that year was that Chewning was closing and that I was going to a different