My friends are reading my tumblr, even after I asked them not to.
I asked them not to, because I knew it would upset them and I really can’t deal with other people being hurt, because I’m hurt enough myself.
I want to thank all of my followers.
Thank you for all the support and inspiration. It’s nice to know I’m not the only person feeling the way I do.
Much love and appreciation is sent your way.
Phebe, Sinner and Zombie in heart and soul
I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t even want to talk to anyone. I just want to sleep and never wake up. To be done with all this unbearable aching inside.
I’m hurting, but at the same time I don’t feel anything at all. Numb. Empty.
It’s as if I’m living in some sort of bubble and I can’t get out. I’m shouting at everyone around me, but they can’t hear me.
I hate it. I hate it all.
I wish I could get out of this body, which keeps weighing me down. My soul isn’t have bad, you know. If I could just re-start, re-invent myself, I might just enjoy life.
Are we living? Or are we dying?
I wouldn’t know. I’m frozen in time and space. Whilst everyone else is moving on full speed. Making decisions, mistakes and miracles. I can’t keep up with them.
So, instead of trying, I guess I’ve already given up. I’m not living, I’m not dying.
I’m nothing, heading nowhere.
”1. I was born in ‘92, which means I can actually remember things from the nineties, which means I’m awesome
2. I’m awesome
3. I’m in love with Joseph Gordon-Levitt
4. I once had a goldfish and over-fed him by emptying the entire can of fish food into his tank, which killed him
5. I’m a virgin and don’t mind
6. I was the first of my friends to create a tumblr, can I get a WhatWhat?!
7. I say ohmigod, totally and awesome a lot, but hate people who do the same
8. I’m Dutch and no, I’ve never smoked pot
9. I don’t think I’ll ever accomplish anything in life, because I live in my imagination and I fear the real world
10. I want to die
30. I could come up with 30 facts about me, but they wouldn’t be interesting and I’m too lazy to write them all down
I really, really thought they did, but today I found out they actually have no clue what’s going on with me.
No, mom. I know I didn’t clean my room, I was too busy trying NOT to kill myself.
It hurts. It hurts so bad to know that the people who I thought knew me the best, don’t know me at all.
For God’s sake, they actually believed I was alright! How did they not see I was hurting, or noticed I cried myself to sleep every single night?
I just don’t know anymore. I don’t know what to do and who to talk to. I have never felt this alone in my entire life.
In my young life, there have been several times when I seriously considered to commit suicide. To prevent this story to go on for to long, I’ll only tell you about the first time.
I was 14 years old and in High school. (Maybe it’s called middle school where you’re from, but in our schooling system, it’s called High school)
To make a long story short:
I had a fight with my two best friends, who were also in my class, and they turned their backs on me.
Now, that alone sucked, but it got a whole lot worse.
They got all of their other friends to hate me as well, and they bullied me; threatening to beat me up, calling me outside during lunch break. They would circle around me, like wolves, pushing me and calling me names.
There were so many of them, I was too scared to say or do anything.
Every day I would come home crying, already fearing tomorrow. It was only during the weekends when I could really breathe.
They tortured me, making fun of me and openly being cruel, the way girls of that age can be.
One morning, when everyone had left home, I was the last one to leave. I was so scared to face all of them again, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I ran upstairs and grabbed a pen and some paper, and started writing letters. Letters to my family and letters to the girls who had hurt me. I wanted the world to know that THEY had forced me to do so.
After that I walked into the kitchen, grabbed the biggest knife I could find and pressed it against my wrist.
I felt the cold touch of the blade against my skin. I don’t know how long I stood there, staring outside the kitchen window, crying.
In the end I couldn’t do it, so I cleared the table, hid the letters, and went off to school.
It’s all crashing down. You’re free falling towards rock-bottom, and there’s nothing you can do. Nothing but to soar and feel the wind brush against your skin. You watch as every aspect of your life flashes by. All the happy moments, all the sad moments. All those times you sat alone in the dark, crying. The hurt, the pain, it washes over you, like a wave crashing down on the shore.
You’re getting closer to the ground, you can count the rocks. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. You wonder which one will be the end of you.
It’s only going to be a couple of seconds until the moment supreme. You close your eyes and with every part of your body, with every inch of your soul, you wish for someone to save you.
”— Phebe Mallien
I have always believed in God. My mother’s family is very religious, so it was part of our upbringing.
I never liked going to church. My family is from the Maluku islands and in church they would preach in their language. I don’t speak Malaysian fluently, so I don’t understand most of it. Which makes it even more boring.
Right now, I would say my believe in God has grown. This doesn’t mean I don’t sin, because I do. Yet, somehow I have the feeling God’s always looking out for me, protecting me, but letting me make my own decisions.
I hope that when I die, I’ll go to heaven. To find the peace and quiet I’ve been looking for. To come home in the house of our Lord.
…my friends saved my life. I don’t know if they’ll read this or not, either way, they saved me from myself. Things have been rough lately, the urge to take my own life had been growing stronger over the past couple of weeks. I have been lying to everyone: I’m okay, I’m alright.
When, in fact, I feel horrible, lost and hurt.
It was supposed to be a girl’s night, watching movies, exchanging the latest gossips, but I broke down and spilled my beans.
Gosh, they were so understanding and sweet, I couldn’t help but cry my eyes out. To finally have said what’s been on my mind felt liberating.
I think it’s time to tell my parents. I need help. I’m not doing well. I don’t know how long I can take all of this. And I fear the moment when I break.
I won’t hurt myself. Not today, not tomorrow. I want to try and live a little. Spending time with my friends and family, be open about my feelings and constant struggelings. I don’t know if it will help me, but at least I will have tried.
