My story
My story doesn´t start where it suppose to. It doesn´t start from the beginning until the end.
There wasn´t a story until that warm day in spring when I decided, that this day would be the last day I would go to school. That this day was the day that I finally decided to end my life.
The day there was no turning back. At last it was time to plan what I have been dreaming for so many years before.
But to just have a story that starts the day I decide that I am stuck in life and can´t live any longer wouldn´t make it much of a story at all.
To make it a better story I need to have the most difficult day I have ever had in my life. The day that I asked for help. The day I broke inside because I didn´t have the time to plan my ending as I wanted too. Because circumstances made me decide my own fate much sooner than expected.
There still wasn´t a story here. Nothing to tell, mainly because I didn´t know why I wanted to die. Why I felt like i did and why I was hiding from everything all the time. Why I was so afraid of everything with nothing outside to be afraid of.
How could I tell my story if I didn´t know the words. If I never had a bad day in my life. If I was as happy as always and feeling as I always did. How could anyone else know how bad it was if I didn´t know myself.
My story goes both backward and forward in time. Remembering a forgotten past to make a new reality for myself.