Staying Alive Is Hard
⚠️ Image Content warning: cartoonesque depiction of suicide by hanging.
A crude drawing on MS-paint of a stickfigure hanging themself, behind their corpse a ghost holding their hands in victory sign | Drawn by me using my computer's touchpad.
⚠️ Content warning: Suicide and mental health problems.
If you or someone you know is considering suicide or self-harm, please consider reaching out to a suicide and/or crisis lifeline. (List of suicide crisis lines - Wikipedia)
I’ve been drawing lately and even shared some of my work online. While I deeply dislike social media, I feel it’s a necessary evil if I want any exposure. Bluesky is alright, Reddit was okay, but I’m still not a fan of Instagram. As I’m writing this, I got banned from Reddit for posting an edgy comic about a suicidal girl. Maybe it was a bad idea to create social media accounts. Sharing my art with a bigger audience was fun while it lasted, but I’ll never feel comfortable doing it on social media.
I’ve just deleted Instagram and Reddit. I kept Bluesky because I kinda like its format. It feels more like a blogging platform with an emphasis on text. Maybe I should create a Tumblr account? No, I think I should think this through or else I’ll delete it in a whim, just like my old account.
Posting feels soul-sucking and horrible. I should definitely limit how much I post and hopefully find a nice spot for everything I post on my website. Speaking of, I would really like to remake my website and “fix” its layout. Maybe we’ll see.
My mind still feels trapped, and I’ve once again fallen for the temptations of suicidal ideation. I fantasize about hanging myself from my balcony and parting ways with this cruel, cold world. Nothing feels worth it; everything feels numb.
My mental health has had its fair share of improvements, but the feelings persist. Perhaps it was because I had the unfortunate idea of browsing the corporate web, which fed me upsetting news about the world. Though, I doubt that’s the only reason.
I know I’ve written a “living” note, coming out as an Islam apostate and sharing bits about my queer identity. I wrote it to gain control of parts of myself, but I’m still struggling.
It’s hard. Really hard.
I don’t know what I’m after… I shared stuff online just because I want more people to see it, but I don’t know why it feels so awful. I feel something gnawing me from the inside… ugh, I hate social media. Maybe I should delete Bluesky too, would that make me feel better? I don’t know… maybe I shouldn’t.
I don’t really know why my mental health has regressed. I feel tortured by my thoughts.
I just had lunch, the food felt bland, the meat disgusted me.
I don’t know what’s up with my mind, but I feel like I’m tortured. I need help.
I have nothing else to share but my stupid suicide node, which I feel like I’ve gotten better at writing them through the years (I’ve been writing suicide notes since I was eleven) Here is my new attempt:
Hi mom, Hi dad.
Thank you for the good memories and thank you for staying with me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be as strong as you wanted me to be. I’m sorry you had to see this, I wish there was a simpler way. The thoughts have become too heavy. Thank you for sticking with me during these hard times and getting me to therapy. I would have loved to start fresh, a new life in a new school. But I don’t think I’m mentally fit for it, I don’t think I’m capable of holding this much burden.
I’m also really sorry I quit this world in this way. I know you’d pray for me, but your god doesn’t help unbelievers and I’m destined to Hell. I wish I could have been a daughter you were proud of, but I’m not a girl, just a disappointment and broken mismatched pieces sewed together into a Frankenstein’s monster.
Please take care of my siblings for me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for them. I love spending time with them. Please, mom, dad, tell them I love them very much, and our time together is probably the only thing I’ll miss. The “dark” thoughts, as my therapist used to call them, have became too much and hard to ignore. I’m really sorry. I wish I was stronger.
Mom, dad, I know you can manage without me, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I lived for twenty years, I think I’ve seen enough. It’s time for me to go.
I’ll miss you.
-Bassma
I don't know, I hope my mind let me see another day.