I'm not sure how I feel about it.
Just kind of ill.
I couldn't say anything I needed to, or wanted to. I tried my hardest not to cry, not to be scared, but the tears came anyways. And I didn't even know the woman, I didn't want her to see me cry, and I know this all sounds so stupid. But I felt stupid.
She asked me questions I couldn't bear to answer. I had to fill out this questionare about how I felt. I filled in all the little 'always' boxes to answer questions about how often I was sad, or depressed, or suicidal, or panicky. That was about as open as I could be. Filling in little boxes, hoping those black marks paint the picture of my desperation.
She asked me about my family, and how close we were. I told her I spoke with them occasionally, but we don't talk about the things that really matter. I've been told never to speak about my 'little' problem. She said that explained how I could sit there and cry, and talk about suicide, while smiling my head off and laughing. She told me I had to continue to pretend everything was fine, even as I'm sitting there admitting I need help. But that's what I do when I'm nervous or upset...I laugh. I can be bawling, and I laugh. It's not real laughter. She asked me why I do it and I told her because I have to. It's the only way I'll make it through.
Then she asked me how I would do it, kill myself. And of course I know how, but I could never say it out loud. Sure, I could write about it here. But I could never say it out loud. I told her I didn't know, I had no plan, and she called my bluff. I told her about the time when I was 13, and swallowed a bunch of pills. Not realizing that if you're going to kill yourself, you actually have to know what you're doing. You can't just swallow a bunch of pills all at once, you'll just throw them up. You have to know what you're doing.
She asked me why I finally decided to get help. And I all could muster up...all I could manage to say without completly breaking down...is that everything is just wrong. And that's it in a nutshell. Everything in my life just feels wrong right now. There is no right.
What I really wanted to say, though, what I really wanted to tell her, was that about a month ago I woke up on a beautiful Saturday morning, and I wanted to die. And I thought to myself, wow I've been wishing I weren't here for 10 years now. And the thought suddenly occured to me, that in another 10 years, it will have been 20. 20 years spent praying to be anything else, anywhere else, or nowhere at all. And that seemed very sad to me.
It's do or die.
Literally.
And so I guess I'm doing. But even doing seems very wrong right now. And I'm not doing it very well.
And mostly I'm just scared.
She told me I didn't have to feel this way anymore. And I wanted to tell her I didn't know how else to feel. I don't know anything but this. And that's sad too.
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