I wonder how much my mother loves me. I wonder how much she'd cry if I kill myself. How long would she lament on the loss of her youngest child? Will it take her years to get over me? Months, perhaps? Or maybe even just a couple of days?
I wonder if my family cares about me, really. Or rather, I wonder if they care about my being, since I pretty much had an idea of how much they worry about me, or perhaps the appropriate term would be pity? I've been bumming for nearly a year now and so they constantly ask me about my plans, that is, if I have any.
I wonder if they have even really bothered knowing me at all. Especially my mother. I think it's important for me to know how much she'd known me ever since I've started growing apart from them. Will she suffer much if I kill myself? Or will she be relieved? I can guess that she'll cry in my funeral and afterwards forget about me. Who was I to think I'll be eternally remembered? But I honestly wonder how much I mean to her. I've never been much of a good girl back when I was still home. Not that I've been that bad. I was a spoiled brat, what do you expect?
I don't really want my mother to be burdened, that is, if I kill myself. It's just that I, I feel a longing for that weeping and mourning sort of crap. After all I'm a selfish, self-centered delusional freak.
They are my family so it's given. I should be expected to wonder about their feelings toward me, I mean, if any; that is, if I kill myself.
I wonder about my two best friends in high school. They are the best two human beings that have existed in the world, at least in my world. When I think about them, I think about them lovingly. Come to think of it. Maybe I did really know what love is. Love borne out of trust, that is. I've seen and felt how much they cared about me. And they did so unconditionally. That much I realized.
So I wonder now how they'd react if I kill myself. Will they have suspected about my being a hopeless case? Will they suffer and be hurt? Or will they fear me? Detest me, perhaps? Will they throw away the friendship once I've been buried deep down on the ground?
That's what I fear the most. Or rather, the thing that I think matters most. That when I die, there'd be nothing left of my memories behind. Gone all with me. As if I had never existed. But it's a fact of Life, I know it. It's just that I don't want to accept it. Afterall, I'm deeply self-absorbed, what do you expect?
I wonder if my family cares about me, really. Or rather, I wonder if they care about my being, since I pretty much had an idea of how much they worry about me, or perhaps the appropriate term would be pity? I've been bumming for nearly a year now and so they constantly ask me about my plans, that is, if I have any.
I wonder if they have even really bothered knowing me at all. Especially my mother. I think it's important for me to know how much she'd known me ever since I've started growing apart from them. Will she suffer much if I kill myself? Or will she be relieved? I can guess that she'll cry in my funeral and afterwards forget about me. Who was I to think I'll be eternally remembered? But I honestly wonder how much I mean to her. I've never been much of a good girl back when I was still home. Not that I've been that bad. I was a spoiled brat, what do you expect?
I don't really want my mother to be burdened, that is, if I kill myself. It's just that I, I feel a longing for that weeping and mourning sort of crap. After all I'm a selfish, self-centered delusional freak.
They are my family so it's given. I should be expected to wonder about their feelings toward me, I mean, if any; that is, if I kill myself.
I wonder about my two best friends in high school. They are the best two human beings that have existed in the world, at least in my world. When I think about them, I think about them lovingly. Come to think of it. Maybe I did really know what love is. Love borne out of trust, that is. I've seen and felt how much they cared about me. And they did so unconditionally. That much I realized.
So I wonder now how they'd react if I kill myself. Will they have suspected about my being a hopeless case? Will they suffer and be hurt? Or will they fear me? Detest me, perhaps? Will they throw away the friendship once I've been buried deep down on the ground?
That's what I fear the most. Or rather, the thing that I think matters most. That when I die, there'd be nothing left of my memories behind. Gone all with me. As if I had never existed. But it's a fact of Life, I know it. It's just that I don't want to accept it. Afterall, I'm deeply self-absorbed, what do you expect?
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