Open spaces make me paranoid. I couldn’t text and listen to him at the same time. Flashback to last New Years. I felt really sad because I saw the marks on my arm from a week ago. Biggest thing I regret. It just reminded me when I almost died a year and eight months ago. I overdosed on painkillers and alcohol. I never ate so I got drunk and couldn’t feel a thing. It was his birthday, but I didn’t know. I was breaking down and he got angry with me about it. It’s his birthday and I was committing suicide. I know, I did it at the worst time. I’ve been doing it on that day for 12 years since then. I never knew it was his birthday until we became friends. I was so depressed I ignored his birthday. I was about to die and I felt horrible. I just woke up and thought it was a dream, took the bus and went to college. Then, I passed out on the bus and someone shook me awake. I puked a lot at the station I got off. I just walked to the Riverside Hospital and asked for help.
I remembered he got angry at me for forgetting. He was a good reason, too. I just had to make sure I could be okay, so that he’d have the greatest birthday ever next year. I honestly don’t remember then on very well. I drank a lot of coffee, and did a lot of sleeping pills. That was a lot of pressure. I really needed a distraction if I wanted to get out of this bad habit.
You’d be glad to think I achieved it, but I just invited his friends over and somehow decorated. Spent money, lots, and my boyfriend back then didn’t care. It’s fine that everyone wants to go downtown but I really need to try and be a friend right now. Barely cared about New Years.
Worked my ass off to finish college though. Even moved in with him, now to think of how coincidental it is… I am VERY creeped out. Right now, I’d say he’s my best-friend. Only because he knows things about me, barely judges me, gives me the right advice, and is pretty damn honest with me. I’m surprised he’s still friendly with me after each fight. I still try my best with him though. Even past New years.
Suicide was tough, and I thought I did a great job that year. After thirty minutes of calculation, with a marker behind a ‘Best Health’ magazine; 35 times to be exact. I’m only 21 years old. Don’t those numbers look odd? New years, birthdays, pain and exhaustion. I always used somewhat torture to do it, therefore it never succeeds. I’d hold my breath, tie my neck, drown in the tub, but those things made me pass out or I’d have to close my eyes. Each time my eyes would close I stop. How great is that? Insane, right? I think it’s idiotic. I know exactly the right methods to succeed but I don’t use them. What am I even doing?
Most of it was not even for me or the fault of anyone. I don’t want someone to be burdened with how bad things happen to me. I especially don’t like how I get people involved. I am full of bad luck, I get everything handed to me but when it touches me, it crumbles. Suicide is complicated and I hate it. I guess, I do it for both the relief of pain, or to stop being so idiotic and insane. I do compulsive arguments because I always get frightened over them. I could not ever confront arguments, people, or situations when I was growing up.
Bad things make me angry. I can’t ever physically hurt something or someone, but I forget important details about why I should keep myself safe. How the past can’t hurt you anymore. But it does, every night and every day. Every flashback and every breakdown. Flashbacks are so fast, it’s like I blinked and I remembered absolutely everything. I suddenly feel like a horrible person, how could I forget that? When I’m sensitive after a breakdown or a ‘bad’ thing, and when others don’t trust me, I do become insane. I hate how that happens to me. I’m aware.
I just don’t want to hurt him, you know? I already did once and I could’ve really hurt myself last month, too. The same I did to another person, an even more important person in my life. I have no idea why I think this person is so important to me. I could’ve died many times in school but I always remembered him and forgot what I was crying about. They were there before someone died before them. Then, he changed. But, on another note, it wasn’t even New Years or my birthday. It was a relapse of suicide. I just sat on a ledge of a building and ruined everyone’s week.
Sometimes, I do it cause of the ‘speed’ of life, and how it catches up to you. It’s the pressure of death from memories with my family and friends, even people I don’t care about. The thought of how everyone suffers a little or too much. No one knows what’s going to happen. People have been hurt and people have been selfish. Only “one more year” and you can just as well figure it out. Will it be pain, great, or both? Death? What about wounds? Half of them heal but the rest are stuck in your head. I’ve been through hell, if you can believe it.
No one believes it. Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only one here. When I meet someone who’s been through the same as me, I start to believe they are lying too. Why would people persuade me to believe I lie? My dreams feel so real, like the past and the future combined. Now, I barely remember if I am good or bad, and I’m never sure of what I do. I’m not sure of who I am. I wake up cold with sweats. I don’t know where I am, and then I tear up a bit. I realise I’m in my apartment. I have two roommates who are the best, or the best that they can be. And I treat everyone like shit, because I don’t want them to be full of mine. I then go about my day as much as I can, and try to forget about the past. I walk, or I’ll hum, and maybe write notes like this.
I’ll always try not to kill myself. It’s really tough to figure out how, and I’ll always try to remember everyone who loves me too. Remembering everything is hard, but I could maybe write notes like this.