existing while suicidal

trigger warning: this includes honest reflections on suicidal thoughts and emotional suffering.

i was just cutting a watermelon this morning.

that’s it. something so normal. something so mundane and soft, the kitchen was warm. i was standing there slicing into the bright red fruit and all i could think about was “what if i stabbed myself with this knife?”.

the thought didn’t scream at me, it didn’t come at me like a storm, it just showed up so quietly and so casual. like it belonged there. one moment i was cutting fruit and the next i was imagining bleeding out on the kitchen floor.

and that’s what scares me the most: how normal it feels.

i didn’t flinch, i didn’t stop. i just kept going. like the thought was background noise. like breathing. because honestly, it is. these kind of thoughts follow me everywhere. they don’t wait for the dark moments, they show up even in the good ones too. during laughter, during sunshine, during chores, during nothing. there’s this part of my brain that won’t let me forget that i am suffering.

even in happy moments i am thinking about dying, even in silence i am screaming inside.

i’ve been suffering for as long as i can remember. not just sad, not just tired, but really suffering. i carry something heavy and invisible in my chest that no one else seems to see. i don’t remember when it started exactly, just that it has always been there. the ache, the constant weight. the voice that says “what if you just disappeared?”.

people think suicidal thoughts are dramatic. loud. dangerous. sometimes yes, they are. but mine feel more like fog. like i am living under a gray cloud no one else can see. it has become part of who i am. i don’t even know what it’s like not to feel this way.

the worst part is how functional i am, how well i’ve learned to perform normal. if you saw me in line or chatting at the store, you’d never guess that i am actively, daily, all the time thinking about how i don’t want to be here.

inside i am quietly breaking.

i just want to stop hurting, i want rest, i want peace. an end to the voice in my head. i’ve always wanted a quiet death. something painless, something soft, like falling asleep and never waking up. not to shock anyone, not to hurt anyone. just to stop feeling like this.

when i’m alone i think about it more, i wonder how deep a blade would need to go, i wonder how much pain i’d actually feel. i wonder if it would even be enough.

god, i am tired.

i am so tired.

tired of pretending.

i am tired of carrying this quiet ache like a second skin.

tired of waking up everyday wondering how much longer i can do this.

i feel like i’m behind glass. like i am underwater where i can’t scream and i am slowly drowning. i can’t breathe. even in the moments i’m supposed to feel most alive, i’m thinking about leaving.

i wake up and carry it through my day, through my breakfast, my errands, my texts, hanging out with a friend. i carry it with me everywhere.

i don’t want to make a scene, i just want to rest, i just want to feel okay being alive.

what if i stabbed myself with the knife?