dream where i killed myself

 🕰 Diary Entry

September 8th, 2025

Between anger and longing

I had one of the strangest dreams tonight. My family and I were sitting down to eat—my brother, sister, parents and something inside me snapped. They were all paying more attention to my sister than me, and I could feel the anger building, heavy and hot.

I stormed into my room, slamming the door like I was sealing myself away from them. Then my sister came in to use my bathroom. That made me furious. I forced her out, shut the door, and we struggled with it,her pushing, me holding it shut.

Then my mother came. She slipped her hand into the door, and it got hurt in the struggle. Instead of stopping everything, she let my sister win, let her use the bathroom. That cut deeper than anything. I felt invisible. Small. Like my feelings didn’t matter.

That’s when the dream turned dark. My anger didn’t stay with them it turned inward, against myself. It was as if my dream-self thought, “Maybe if I disappear, they’ll finally be happy.”

But when I woke up, I knew that wasn’t the truth. The dream was my mind’s way of shouting what I don’t always say out loud:

That I want to be seen.

That I want to matter as much as anyone else.

That sometimes I feel overlooked, and it hurts more than I admit.

It wasn’t about death, it was about wanting life, my place in it, to feel valued.

And maybe that’s what my dream was trying to hand back to me: the reminder that I don’t need to vanish to be noticed. I just need to hold on to the fact that my presence, my anger, my laughter, me,it all matters.

— Aleena