Real darkness

Right now I'm just curious, scared but calmed by death all at the same time. I'm tired beyond exhausted and cannot sleep because of my ever so lingering thoughts of suicide. They've been following me through most of my life, ever since I was 4 years old, but I only remember my first such thoughts from when I was about 6 or 7 years old.

Already then death allured me and already then I hated my life. I can't really say that things got better. Slightly to the opposite direction, actually. But it was never good and I held on to the comforting thought of death as an option in my darker times.

Through bullying, sexual assault, dissociation, loneliness, lovesickness, heartbreak, physical ailments, psychological abuse, homesickness for Dala, the torture known as Anna, psychotic episodes, depression, failure upon failure that eventually ended up shaping my life.
I have had nothing else as constant and comforting as death to hold on to. Except my family, but sometimes I needed to escape them too, their ignorance. They were very accepting and understanding, I never had any real problem with them. But they never even noticed the bullying, not even when it went so far that Anna came to me to save my life.

I told my mother the summer before last, about sort of what happened to me when I was 9 years old, in the car on my way to get locked up in the psychiatric ward for being suicidal. She drove me there. Then, just recently I told her that it was connected to Anna.

I had only discovered that connection that summer, and it was one of the reasons I thought I could not go on living anymore. Cause it wasn't only what the bullies did to me, it was also something that I did to another person.

It was so damn awful I don't think I can ever in my entire life tell a single soul what or who it was. I'm trying to protect that person as much as I just want to protect myself. I'm pretty sure they don't remember what happened, that only I do.

I hope so, for their sake, but it feels like I ruined that person's life and I'm watching what I created far too often as we still keep contact. We have to. And more than that, I can't possibly say. Maybe I've already said too much, and I'm sorry if I sparked your curiosity or something, but that is real darkness and it should never have happened. It's literally the worst thing I've ever done in my life, and the only things I can say in self defense, is that I was just 9 years old and that I had no idea that what I was doing was wrong in any sense.

It drove me mad, when the memories that I had became clearer and more visual. I knew Anna remembered and I pushed her to tell or show me. It really did drive me mad. My mood started shifting intensively, think borderline and bipolar combined, shaken up and watched through a microscope. I couldn't sleep, eat or drink for days before I crashed and it was just awful.

I couldn't handle remembering what I had done to someone that close to me. I thought that I should be locked up but couldn't handle prison. I googled intensively to find out if I could still be charged for that crime. Yes, it was indeed an actual crime, one of the worst imaginable at that too.

I really didn't think I could live with it. I don't know if I should ever let anyone know, if that would even be a good thing to do. I mean, I could do it as one of the last things before dying, to not have to face the consequences myself. Although I know that I can't be convicted for a crime I did before the age of 15, but there could still be other dire consequences.

It still haunts me. Sometimes day and night. And it should, I just wish I hadn't done it. So where does that leave me? Did God forsake me that very moment, did Anna come because of that or what I went through myself, am I forever damned because of it, was it right of me to pursue suicide?

You hear about it sometimes. On tv or in books and movies. About violent offenders deciding to end their lives because they can't deal with what they've done. It's almost seen as a morally correct act. Am I horrible for being able to move on and living with myself?

I don't often talk about this, it usually hurts just thinking about it, but I'm empty tonight and the questions run softly through my head. I'm calm, even though I know that that very moment literally ruined my life. And someone else's. So many lives were ruined those days. I think it went a few months between the two incidents.

And I still catch myself believing that I didn't know that what I did was wrong. I hadn't been taught much, or anything at all, about that topic yet at that age. It came later, and so did the realisation. That "what have I done" realisation that never stopped.