that was gonna be me ya know? well it almost was but sometimes i feel like it really should have been if only i had tried hard enough
but wouldn’t you know trazodone is actually really hard to overdose on so it seems safe to conclude that when the paramedic told me i was lucky i had woken up he was lying
the bottom line is though that i thought i was ready to be that person who so many others knew went to school with grew up with but then they all would have continued to age while i became part of the earth again
and while i was certainly gone for those few hours before i woke up soaked in sweat tangled in my sheets and the realization that i had failed my heart was still beating and when i was pulled under again fear gripped me tighter than my depression and suicidal urges ever did
because i didn’t want to die i was only sixteen years old my sister was in the room right next to mine and i wondered what that would have done to her if she had found me and that makes me hate myself just that much more
but failing that being an almost statistic waking up and voluntarily being admitted into the psychiatric ward it made me a survivor it meant that i wanted to live and i do i really do
but there are so many other scars besides the one on my skin and possibly some internal organs that run like deep grooves inside of my psyche and i sometimes wonder why people that want to die that do **** themselves are treated like they did not want to live when they wanted to live the most of all
why does wanting to have the pain stop make them bad people?