My Story


My attempt of suicide is something I believe crosses my mind every day. I remember lying in my room and opening the packet of beta-blockers my Doctor had prescribed me. I held 10 in my hand. I stared at them. I smiled and washed them down with water. I waited. I waited. I wanted death to come, but it never came. I took more and clinged to death. I took more and more and more and more. I was still waiting. Waiting to feel the world slip away. Waiting to feel nothing. Waiting for peace. I lay down on my bed and sung to myself. I begged and pleaded for death to come and take me and I promised that if it didn’t I bring it another way. I laughed. I waited. I was excited. Then things got blurry. I fell. I vomited. I don’t remember. I awoke. In a bed. I heard bleeping. I looked around to see a curtain. I looked up to see a nurse. I looked down to see wires. Why am I alive? Why am I here? This isn’t fair? I’m embarrassed. I’m hurt. I’m alone. I’m in pain. I want to go. Let me go. Let me go.


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