Every morning I wake up and wish I hadn’t.
The months, weeks and days pass with me wishing it’ll be the last, and yet there’s no end.
At nighttime I cry faintly into my pillow with tears streaming down my cheeks. I whimper in pain, attempting to suppress the sounds that leave my room; I don’t want my family to hear.
I whisper, “Oh Allah, I don’t want to live anymore. Oh Allah, please, I don’t want to live anymore.”
I feel broken. I feel alone. I feel empty inside. I am in pain and numb at the same time. Perhaps my pain is so much now that I can no longer distinguish it. It is a physical pain—a weight on my chest crushing my existence, crushing my hopes and dreams.