*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚Hi Ducklings˚₊‧✩*ੈ༻☆༺˚ ₊‧✩*ੈ
On March 10th of this year I wrote a piece discussing my teenage years, battle with suicidal ideations/attempts and how once I got the opportunity to achieve my dream I started second d guessing if it was truly the right decision for me.
Do the flowers bloom?
Do the flowers bloom, or do they inch closer to their death? Since I was young I have always felt an impending sense of doom with age. Although I can deny the cause, everything since I was 13 has circled around the night with the pills. I think the thought of me being dead by 15, then 16 then 17, always clouded how I felt about my age. Each birthday was just a symbol of failure in my one goal, a goal that is no more but forever in my mind. This neglect of living has led to my life being as blank as my bedroom walls, but why would I decorate? Nothing can ever be good enough to fulfil the feeling that just can't seem to leave me and everything's temporary. But it isn’t. I told myself for years that even if I did live, I'd leave my atmosphere and be magically healed, but at my first chance of escape I had it taken away which has left my only option for a year to be in the same position I was promised refuge of. Now, I have an opportunity to leave and I’m unsure. After constantly fighting, wishing and praying for it, my chance has come and I don’t know if I want it anymore. Am I too comfortable in my situation, or am I simply just afraid of the change now that it’s a possibility again.
Currently, it has now been 5 months since I wrote it and I am forever grateful that I didn't let my doubts control my decision as I am actively living my dream.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚xoxo Ducklings˚₊‧✩*ੈ༻☆༺˚ ₊‧✩*ੈ
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