Dark

I remember a time when I was 7; I don't remember much from childhood, but this memory stands out. I was laying down on the bottom bunk bed in my room where I grew up. I was talking with dad, I don't remember what about, but I remember being upset and saying, "I hate myself; I wish I didn't exist!" Mom overheard this and went and got a serrated knife from the kitchen and handed it to me. I can still see the knife. Wooden handle, blade was about 5 inches. A steak knife. 

At this point I was pretty young, and I don't think I fully understood what to do with the knife. Mom didn't show me what to do or how to use it. I think I knew it was something with wrists, I considered stabbing myself with it but inevitably wussed-out. That's not something you do in front of other people, or I didn't feel right at the time. But I kind of wish I had tried. What would she have done? If I did well, how would she have explained this at the hospital? If I'd tried a little harder, maybe someone could have got some mental help... This was before Mom got really bad.

I've struggled with dark places for many years. This was the first time I had that feeling that I didn't want to be here. 

It is so hard seeing dad go thru all this and how much I am hated just for existing. Reminds me of when I was 7.