catherine talks

I remember that cold November, its so fuzzy that I can barely remember all the details. I see the old brown couch i was  sitting on, the Loud TV that I ignored. I was 14 and alone in the house that day; I wasn’t watching the TV, reading a book or day dreaming. I was writing just like I always did, but this time it was a different note, it was a suicide note.  This wasn’t my first attempt, this was the second actually. The first attempt was  unsuccessful. I swallowed Six paracetamol hoping it would send me to the other side but it did nothing. How miserable I felt when nothing happened. My brothers had found out and told my mother who scoffed out in disbelief ´’If you die it would hurt me but not for more than three days “she sneered. That reply didn’t comfort me, if anything it made me feel worse, neglected and undervalued. So I re-strategized on something better, something stronger and something reliable. I bought over 6 packs of Amoxil hoping it would finally end my ...