You Probably Don't Want to Read This
If you're in a good mood, you definitely won't want to read this.
No, I'm not going to do anything stupid. No, I haven't done anything stupid. I've just spent the past four hours or so in pain, vomiting, in the tub, screaming, crying... All that fun sort of stuff.
I'm tired of it. I'm tired of people telling me that they want to help, but then they never do anything. "I hurt." "Can I do anything to help you?" "Take me to the place where I won't hurt." "No. Here let me give you this noise maker so you can take your mind off of it."
There is no taking your mind off it. When it's here, and it's this hard, I close my eyes and I see blood. I see blood pulsing out of my wrists into the water in its nebulous clouds. Slowing staining the entire bathwater a red so deep that you can't see into it.
I close my eyes and I feel the blood warmly dripping down my wrist into my palm and off to the floor. I scream. I cry. I moan.
I deny it. I tell it that it has no power over me. I tell it I hate it, in turn hating myself, because this is part of me.
I feel sorry for Ma and Tuckey who have to put up with the noise. They say they want to help me, but they never do anything other than fetch something for me. If I know I need to go to the ER because I know where my threshold is at and that it has been breached... I know when I need to go. And they deny me.
I want to be dead. End all of this. Put myself out of everyone else's misery. I know I cause them stress. I know I make their life miserable. I want it done and over with, but I don't have the courage to do it. I know what happens if I screw it up. I know where they send you. I couldn't live like that. It's almost as bad as the stomach pain.
I thought writing about this would help. It doesn't seem to have done any good.
If you read this, thank you for listening.
No, I'm not going to do anything stupid. No, I haven't done anything stupid. I've just spent the past four hours or so in pain, vomiting, in the tub, screaming, crying... All that fun sort of stuff.
I'm tired of it. I'm tired of people telling me that they want to help, but then they never do anything. "I hurt." "Can I do anything to help you?" "Take me to the place where I won't hurt." "No. Here let me give you this noise maker so you can take your mind off of it."
There is no taking your mind off it. When it's here, and it's this hard, I close my eyes and I see blood. I see blood pulsing out of my wrists into the water in its nebulous clouds. Slowing staining the entire bathwater a red so deep that you can't see into it.
I close my eyes and I feel the blood warmly dripping down my wrist into my palm and off to the floor. I scream. I cry. I moan.
I deny it. I tell it that it has no power over me. I tell it I hate it, in turn hating myself, because this is part of me.
I feel sorry for Ma and Tuckey who have to put up with the noise. They say they want to help me, but they never do anything other than fetch something for me. If I know I need to go to the ER because I know where my threshold is at and that it has been breached... I know when I need to go. And they deny me.
I want to be dead. End all of this. Put myself out of everyone else's misery. I know I cause them stress. I know I make their life miserable. I want it done and over with, but I don't have the courage to do it. I know what happens if I screw it up. I know where they send you. I couldn't live like that. It's almost as bad as the stomach pain.
I thought writing about this would help. It doesn't seem to have done any good.
If you read this, thank you for listening.