Jun 2016
I want my last words to be meaningful... Then again, everybody does. The sad truth is, no words come close to meaning. The fact that we have to take seperate words and put them together like a puzzle for someone to even understand it, which sometimes they don't, amazes me. I'm sure a time will come where a thousand pictures is worth a word, and not vice versa... Then maybe absence will be meaningful. Until then, I have no last words. None would properly fit the missing piece to the puzzle.
Explanation:
549 days ago, I tried to commit suicide. I tried to end my life, and my only friends at the time were on the internet. I was clinically depressed, with crippling social anxiety, and wanted to end my life. I swallowed a half empty bottle of Aderall, containing 20 pills, and was rushed to the hospital when my parents came home and found the pill bottle across the room, no pills inside them, and they pumped fluid into me to save my life. I remember the humiliation of waiting in the waiting room, blood dripping down my entire arm, while my mom argued with the nurse about how "Her son is going to die" and "Get him in a room now".. I remember coming back home for the first time since this incident 2 weeks ago, and I couldn't tell them. I couldn't tell any of them I was still alive. I read all their beautiful comments, and I didn't have the heart to tell them they grieved for nothing. This post contains the last words I said, the words that were going to be MY last words. But I didn't die. So I still have a blank page left to write those words in.
The Response Comments:
"**** it, I love you don't. If you went through with it may your soul rest in peace."
"I'm literally in tears right now..."
"Rest in peace, there may not be a god, but there is an afterlife.. i'll see you when i get there."
"It is best to tell everyone of you now that he has...Passed, we all loved him, and knew him well but...He is gone as he stated...May he rest in peace..."
"NO"
"Ok I need some of your make believe fantasy right now."
"Sorry I couldn't help."
549 days ago, I tried to commit suicide. I tried to end my life, and my only friends at the time were on the internet. I was clinically depressed, with crippling social anxiety, and wanted to end my life. I swallowed a half empty bottle of Aderall, containing 20 pills, and was rushed to the hospital when my parents came home and found the pill bottle across the room, no pills inside them, and they pumped fluid into me to save my life. I remember the humiliation of waiting in the waiting room, blood dripping down my entire arm, while my mom argued with the nurse about how "Her son is going to die" and "Get him in a room now".. I remember coming back home for the first time since this incident 2 weeks ago, and I couldn't tell them. I couldn't tell any of them I was still alive. I read all their beautiful comments, and I didn't have the heart to tell them they grieved for nothing. This post contains the last words I said, the words that were going to be MY last words. But I didn't die. So I still have a blank page left to write those words in.
The Response Comments:
"**** it, I love you don't. If you went through with it may your soul rest in peace."
"I'm literally in tears right now..."
"Rest in peace, there may not be a god, but there is an afterlife.. i'll see you when i get there."
"It is best to tell everyone of you now that he has...Passed, we all loved him, and knew him well but...He is gone as he stated...May he rest in peace..."
"NO"
"Ok I need some of your make believe fantasy right now."
"Sorry I couldn't help."
