Suicidal Thought

Last night I played twitter, yeah like.. everynight. I don’t know but it’s my bad habit, stuck into something I can’t get rid of it. In this case, I don’t know if twitter is a bad habit for me or the good one because as far as I’m concerned, I knew one thing or two from twitter. And, yeah because of that I also trying to get away from my responsibility and every obligation I have to do because I spend half day or more in fucking twitter. So I think that’s my bad habit but don’t worry nobody ever dying with a heart attack because playing twitter, right? Except if you see a picture that someone you hate banging your ex in your timeline.

Nah, man I’m kidding. I’m just trying to have fun.

But twitter is good, though. I knew every latest news from my twitter timeline because I’m not kinda person who reads newspaper and drink a cup of coffee in the morning. I’m a kinda guy who watches, reads, searches every damn thing on the internet so yeah, twitter is the good one. Twitter is life. I love twitter.  You can follow my twitter @baywija by the way. Okay, enough.

So last night I opened my twitter. Read some shits, wrote something, bullied each other, kicked someone’s ass, having fun, everything. That’s a good time, I laugh at those tweets, until I saw someone’s argue about suicidal thought. That’s from Alexander Thian (@aMrazing) That’s just.. deeply hits my damn feeling.

Then I don’t know, after those tweets everyone is just writing about suicidal thought with their own experience, have they ever been dragged into something or treatment that make them feel guilty or useless until they almost decide to end their life and gone. I read those tweets, some of my following lists retweeting their suicidal thoughts, their story, their sadness and yeah, those are a damn hell stories. Everyone is just writing their saddest moment on twitter all of the sudden and I’m capable to read those confessions.

I don’t think that I have to explain more about what suicidal thought it is because I do believe you know it, and I think everyone has their suicidal thought at least once in a lifetime, even a little, right? Because you know nobody’s perfect and even the best motivator in the world has the negative mind to feel suck, fucked up and messed up or whatever.

Then I think again, everyone has their suicidal thought, so do I. Have I ever think about ending my life and gone, of course I have. Everyone has. I remember those days when I fell apart and have nothing to live for. So I think it’s okay if I share my own suicidal thought here and write something that brought me down, something that makes me felt uncomfortable to go through life. Even a  little.

It was years ago, when I was teen. It’s about my dad.

He’s a not-very-big-man, I’m taller than him but I don’t have a courage to stand beside him and look at his eyes when he’s angry. Because.. because he is my dad, you jackass. My dad is kinda person who has a tongue like a fucking sword, hurting, and his hands, are abusive. Yes, ‘hand’ with ‘s’, plural. He’d punch me on my head with his right or left hand. That’s just happened everytime I made mistake that unforgivable, he mad at me like he’s furious because he’d punch me easily. My mon isn’t there to defend me, he has her job outside the province so I have nobody to defend me and yeah I just got punch in my head and I have nothing to do.

I used to get punch, for like so many times in that age. I didn’t do anything to defend my right as a son and I didn’t say a word because my heart was full-broken when I got his punch. I have my own reason to stay quiet, what makes me uncapable to say something is because I got physical pain from the man I love, from the man I trust. How could you walk through the life if the only man you choose to trust in your life, the man you grow up with, can possibly punch your head without worrying about the consequences just because he’s mad at you. For me, that physical pain, it hurts of course. But it doesn’t mean anything, though. Because my heart is more fall apart, because he is my dad.

Everytime he punches me, I ran. I was afraid to came back home. I ran with my tears down to find someplace safe, somewhere quiet to cry a lot so nobody can’t hear me. I used to sat on the edge of the river or the bridge, cried over and over again, alone, and planned my suicidal thought. I sometimes have a plan to escape from home and never see him again and then I realized I’m just a high-school student, I have no another home to escape, or a boarding house. Then I just sit there. I think of it. Thinking of my abusive dad, well, he’s not really abusive, though. Because he just punch me but hell no. He’s abusive from my standard of what abusive dad is, so whatever, he punches me and it makes me having a right to call him abusive-harm-soulless kind of dad goddamn it. I sat and cried alone there, and realized that I have nothing to live for. “It would be fine if I die here, nobody cares about me” I said.

But then, I think again. Why would I? Why would I do such a thing, still hurting myself after somebody hurts me. “No, not like this” I said. I look at myself, one day I’d have a son, my own kid. And I  don’t want to be a dad like him. Like my abusive-harm-soulless-monster kind of dad. I’ll have a responsibility to keep my son safe, to keep him away from any suicidal thought because that’s what parenting is. I have to take care of my son and raise him right with my own lovely way to prove my dad wrong. Yeah, with my own lovely way. “Yeah, like that” I said.

That day, I came home. I was a little bit afraid but I can go through it, then I just feel immune to get my dad punch. “It’s okay, I’ll live” I said to myself again and over again. But yea, my dad is a man who has a reason for everything. He wouldn’t do such thing if I’m not making a mistake and ya, I love him. He’s kind of dad I usually share my cigarettes with, vice versa. What a great dad, isn’t he? My dad is like John Winchester, is not his job to be liked, is his job to raised his son right.

So, suicidal thought is a serious problem. It has something to do with parents, so if you had kids you have to treat them right, or they’ll be like me. You want to watch your son became a person like me? Football addict lazy piece of shit? Of course you don’t. So I told you, pals. What you can take about my story is you don’t let yourself to do such thing, you have to treat your kid right. Because if you don’t, I’ll write your name down here as a bad example.

So that’s enough for me today, I really do apologize if you find any grammatical errors because English isn’t my first language so yeah, I’m sorry and thank you for reading. I love you.