It’s 1 in the morning and I want to die.
I want to forget about the pain that keeps me up at night till I finally crash at around 6. Getting my third hour of sleep for the week.
I want to forget about the regret I deal with every day when I see a mom and her daughter. Knowing that could have been me. Knowing that should have been me. Knowing that I will no longer have that opportunity.
I want to forget about the self-loathing that cloaks me comfortingly. Because hating myself is better than feeling whole.
I want to forget about the guilt that weighs so heavily on me day in and day out. My body is tired from keeping busy. My mind is tired from constantly telling myself to act okay. My soul is tired, so tired, of being empty.
I just want to forget I exist. Because not existing is better than dealing with all of the above. Because not existing would be such a sweet salvation. Because not existing would be something that I got right, that I didn’t fail at.
I want to be forgotten. Just wipe my existence off with a simple cloth, never knowing I was ever here.
Yet the permanence of being forgotten, not existing, is what keeps me here. Oh, the irony.
It’s 1:07 and I still want to die.
It’s pretty dark to admit those words. Yet I’m also pretty normal in the statistical scheme of things. I’m probably not the only who wants to die at 1:07 am.
If I died I would be just another statistic. I would be just another, “Well she’s going to hell.” I would be just another, “Well she’s selfish for doing that!” I would be just another dead person who left people behind to pick up and sift through a mess that I couldn’t fix.
A salvation from all the hurt, the guilt, the regret, and the mess is what I want. Crave even.
It’s funny how death is still a taboo subject to talk about and even though I don’t like talking about it, I’m embracing the idea, more than once, to just end it all.
A salvation from all the hurt, the guilt, the regret, and the mess.
I know what I would be leaving behind. That part is not lost on me. I would be leaving behind a mother who loves me with every fiber of her being and sometimes wish she could take my pain away. I would be leaving behind a father, step or not, that would be heart broken because his wife, my mother, is heart broken.
But they don’t understand the hurt, the guilt, the regret, and the mess I feel. Sure they may understand a tiny bit. But that’s not very comforting.
It’s 1:15 and I still want to die. I still want to end it all. I could. But the finality of it all keeps me here.
I want everything to stop hurting.
A salvation from the pain.
That’s what my suicide note would read. Five little words that carry such finality. Five little words that differed eight months ago when I saw my daughter for the last time. Five little words that would somehow complete the hole in me but rip new ones for my loved ones. Five little words that would cause so much more mess.
A salvation from the pain turns into I am here for you.
Five better words that have begun to sink in more and more. Five better words that seem to make the hurt, the guilt, the regret, and the mess a little more bearable.
It’s 1:30 and I still want to die.
But I won’t. Not tonight.
If you or someone you care about has thoughts of suicide please call the National Suicide Hotline 1-800-273-8255. Available 24/7, including 1:30 am.