Why is a Question i have been asking my self since I can remember. Why am I here?why does this keep happening to me?

Why can’t things go the way I planned? Or why did I have to grow up in foster care? Why would my mama smoke crack with me in her stomach? Why did I never get to meet my mother or father? why why why and I’m usually jus left with the Question and not the answer I remember the summer after my freshman year of high school it was a hot summer night and I jus felt like I had enough I was tired of pretending to be happy tired of not feeling like I fit in. A few weeks prior before that night one of my older friends told me to hold a gun for him. So I did and on this night I jus was tired of living I didn’t care I never really cared at that point about much my grades in school was good without even applying myself but I didn’t care enough to try. So I’m sitting in my room at my adopted parents house the house was beautiful they worked hard to get out the hood and move in the suburbs they been there maybe 2 years I was there maybe a year at that moment. I’m sitting in the dark just staring at the posters on my wall and this cold feeling hits me and my chest get tight and all I could think about in that moment was why why am I here? I’m tired of pain I felt like I wasn’t good enough that my mama didn’t even want me thinking of all the abuse I had to endure through the years and I jus had enough I went in the closet under the clothes was a book bag one was for school and one had the gun I grab it out locked the door and sat on the bed I jus was staring at it i knew no one would miss me so I turned the gun toward me And began looking at the barrel. Me and the barrel must of had a stare down for maybe 5 mins but it felt so much longer. I remember the 50 cent lyric playing in my head death got to be easy cuz life is hard.

And I was sick to my stomach ready to throw in the hand because the cards I was dealt was impossible to play. So I put the gun to my head take a deep breath and clothes my eyes I put my left index finger on the trigger and began counting down in my head I get down to 1 and take a deep breath and start over this time I’m counting slower so when I finish get to one I jus pull the trigger click click an I open my eyes and put the gun back in the closet and jus Stared at the ceiling it wouldn’t be my last suicide attempt in my life. Now fast forward to 2020 I’m still here and a lot of those why still haven’t been answered and I don’t think they will ever be but now it’s time I ask myself some new why’s. WHY AM I STILL HOLDING ON TO PAIN ??WHY am I worried about things I can’t control? Why would I give up and I’m not even half way thru the journey? Why am I choosing Defeat? When I can choose to Win.

from my heart to your heart

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