When I entered the water I didn't feel scared at all instead I was at peace. Maybe I was at peace with the fact that I didn't want to live anymore and that life was pointless. Even though many told me that others had it worst than me, still pain was pain. When did pain and suffering started having standards to fit into. Like if you didn't fit in that standard then you aren't sad but just seeking attention. Due to that thinking many people die everyday. Some die mentally while some courageous ones die physically. What was the point of living if you had to fit in all the time. Fit in the beauty standards, fit in with other academic achievers, fit in with the stereotypical thought that women were supposed to take care of everything, fit in with a family (not so your own) whether you liked it or not, fit in with their daily life and just shut up and cry in a corner.
World was messed up and it eventually messed me up too. I almost reached the middle when I heard a familiar voice. It was my friend S. She was my classmate from class 9 and we got a little close in class 10. Class 11 was the year we got really close. I was in class 12 at that time and she was still in 11 as she was pulled back a year. She was crying hysterically begging me to stop. I said I didn't want to. She said that she understands what I'm going through but this was not the solution to my problem. I still refused. She then asked me who was going to be her friend if I died? I told her that she had friends and that she didn't need me. She wailed and said that I was her only friend and that if I took one more step she was going with me too.
I was surprised that someone was willing to die for me and I knew it because she truly meant it and moved closer to me. She was a nice girl and I knew she had a bright future ahead but she wouldn't listen to me at all. She came there at the spot because I told her to take my phone from there. I had unlocked my phone and even my notes app. It was where I had written all my goodbye messages to my loved ones. The traumatic experience I went through and everything. I just wanted to let everyone know the truth and to let them know how sorry I was.
H (a friend I had made recently) came running towards us since S had already called her. H was accompanied by her brother and a random elder women. The women coaxed me into stopping and when I didn't she lunged at me and pulled me out from the water. I was crying asking them to let me go but they didn't and the cops were called. I was escorted to the nearest station but they did let my friend get clothes for me. I changed into that and since I was still a minor they asked me for my parents or guardians information. I refused to give them that but I had no option. I would always leave my house from my room window and get back in it from there too. Nobody knew about it or they didn't care enough to tell me. That night was no exception and I knew that they wouldn't know that I was missing.
I gave them what they wanted and the drama unfolded. My friend S knew that I was cutting myself so she showed all the marks to the professional helpers (that dealt with these kind of things all the time). She insisted that I tell them what was happening to me at my home. I reluctantly told them. My family was there staring at me like I was some sort of alien. I was taken to the hospital and my friend still accompanied me. My sister kept on questioning me and the doctor just said that I was being admitted in the psychiatric ward. She kept on asking why I needed to be depressed. My uncle said that I must be sad because I didn't have money to smoke. My dad said I was bringing disgrace to the whole family. My friend was furious at them for acting that way but I just stopped her saying it was useless.
I'm really afraid of dogs and needles. But at that time multiple needles were being pierced through my body and I didn't even flinch because I was already numb from the words my family told me. Like I wouldn't even need anesthesia if I was being operated, just bring in my family let them talk and I would be actually happy that real knifes were opening me up. I couldn't even meet my family's gaze because I was a disgrace so what's even the point in fighting back. The psychiatrist tried explaining to my family about it but they never understood and kept on fighting with him saying that they were providing me with everything so I didn't have a reason to be depressed. Like yeah, you provide me with stuffs but how about some emotional support and kind words from time to time. In my family, depression was a taboo actually it didn't even exist in my family. We were supposed to be happy and grateful for the shelter and food. But what's the point of having a shelter when you're not roofed from the constant pressures and emotional abuse. What's the point of being grateful for food when the empty void in your chest never fills up no matter how hard you try. What's the point of being happy when you were constantly met with people who took it from you just because they thought that they had the right and wanted to. What's the point in anything if you were constantly treated as a burden your whole life?