"Today, we are burying me." I've always wondered what that would be like to say. Always wondered if, in some form or the other, I'd get to see my own funeral. To see who truly loved me in the god forsaken world of pretense. Today, I might have found out. Today I thought of suicide.

After nineteen years of insufferable arguments, violence, abuse, today, I thought about suicide. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a sob story with wonderful talents and a life full of grievances. I'm just a nobody who used to believe that everything, everyone has purpose. Right now, I don't know mine. After a few arguments, a kick from my teenaged brother, mother scolding me for his violence, and my father near strangling me, today, I know I'm a nobody. I feel no purpose.

I had a scholarhip. I'm on the brink of loosing it, because I'm a failure who was once believed to be an academic. If I have to come back home, maybe I'll find out whether I can watch my funeral or not. Maybe I don't deserve university. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten the scholarship at all. Everyone makes mistakes.

I feel like screaming, but I have no voice. I feel like weeping, but the tears won't fall. I feel like melting into nothing, but I don't know how. So I sit here, with red-rimmed eyes, in my room, trying to make sense of whether I have a purpose at all.

Am I truly meaningless?

Today, I thought about suicide. About how it would feel, to stand on the high balcony railing in the living room, in the dark of the night. About if it'd break from my weight or carry me. About whether I would slip and fall from the black metal structure or have a moment. Just a moment, where I could stand tall and look out to the world like I was above it. Beyond it. About whether I could bring myself to truly jump. Would I try to stop and be too late? Would I scream when I'm falling, or hit my head on the ground with a silent thud? Would I truly die, or just hurt myself and be an embarrassment to death? Would I look terrified once it's over, or serene at last? What would everyone say? How would the landlord react to having to repair the balcony railing?

And then I thought about my parents. My brother. It's unconventional love, family. An odd thing. No matter how much it haunts and hurts, you go right back to it, to hurt yourself more. I wondered how long they would mourn me. It would certainly scar them. I am the first child, regardless of how talented the second is. Regardless of the everyday temper everyone collectively seems to have against me.

I'm a disappointment. A misery. Would it be wiser to just end it? So many questions, but no way to seek answers. Not without truly approaching someone. Not without the fear of shaming myself further. Of becoming a laughing stock. Of disappointing myself too. More than I already have.

The fear of disappointment hit me again. If I jumped, it would cause my family more disappointment than if I were alive. The final blow.

No. I'm not ready. Not just yet. I can take it a little longer. Little by little, until fate and death decide to do me a mercy. I don't expect to be in a happy place. Not now, not ever. Not before I die, not after. I've done nothing to attain it. I just wish I could make people happy, regardless.

One day, we will bury me. Maybe I'll watch. And maybe I'll muster up the courage to smile. Maybe. Just, maybe.