i must confess something that neither my parents nor my psychiatrist knows. one of the most important moments of my life that i have been too afraid to even speak aloud about. the darkest yet most positive instance, the turning point on my road to self ruin.
i was fed up with life, but that was nothing new. i had given up on people long ago, decided to go detached from anything and everything because losing them was inevitable. and overwhelmingly painful.
i swallowed a total of eighteen pills. there was no trigger to this suicide attempt, i was just following through on a decision i had made long ago. at first i was upset because it wasn't working. i was still conscious.  i was still alive.
then they hit like a ton of bricks. waves shook my body so hard that i collapsed onto my bedroom floor. the weight of the pills was pulling my body to the ground. anchored down, unable to even lift a finger. the world was spinning and pulsing, my body covered in a cold sweat.
it was the most beautiful moment of my life. why?

because for once in my life, i was scared of death. for once in my life, i wanted to hold onto my life. in those numbing hours, i could feel my life slipping out of my fingertips and i wanted so desperately to hold on. i couldn't even call out for help.

that was the moment i decided that i wanted to live.