Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock…
December 31, 2015, ah, New Year’s eve. Everyone was busy preparing for the last celebration of the year. And when I say everyone, I also meant me. Yes, I was also busy, busy at cleaning my stuff. I have this tendency of being a neat freak every end of the month, or whenever I feel like it. I wanted to meet 2016 with an organized life.
It was 06:15 PM. Just a few more hours and it’s already 2016. Gosh, time flies so fast. I could still remember all of the major events that happened in my life like it was just yesterday. But I’m not here to talk about that, I’m here to talk about what happened at that moment, at exactly 06:15 PM last year.
While I was cleaning my room, out of nowhere, I stopped. My mind had a proposal. Something for me to do before the clock would strike 12. It was a good thing and a bad thing. The good thing was, it wasn’t something new to me, I guess. Well, that’s how I see it. I think about it every single day for at least half an hour, and then there’s this feeling of fear or anxiety or whatever it is that makes me stop thinking about it because I just couldn’t carry the pain that I’m feeling inside. The bad thing? This invisible barrier that’s holding my body from doing such acts is slowly breaking. Sooner or later, this barrier is gonna break and I don’t think I’m gonna like what’s gonna happen next.
If you are wondering what this idea I’m talking about is and this invisible barrier I’m trying to make you imagine in your minds, well…
And my low tolerance for pain, it’s the invisible barrier that has been keeping me alive until now.
And I know, a whole bunch of people are about to hop on their keyboards right now and type: “No! Don’t do that! You’ve got so much to live for!” (I’m only joking. As if people actually read my blog and if they do, as if they actually care about me.)
Before, whenever I used to think of the act, I would stop myself directly because of the pain that I would feel from imagining myself doing it. But at that time, I didn’t. I cut my wrist and I didn’t feel anything. No imaginary pain, no nothing. I stood up, stopped what I was doing, and went outside my room. I stood outside the fridge and opened it, and all I did was stare at the kitchen knife. To be honest, I had no idea what I was thinking at that time. I just stood, there.
My cousin arrived. I went back inside my room to continue cleaning. I thought to myself that this New Year’s eve almost became a New Year’s end. Until now, that moment still bothered me. Because at that moment, I almost killed myself. And I’ve noticed that as I get older, my tolerance for pain isn’t getting any lower.