When You Start To Think Of Suicide Again

When you have to plead with yourself to hold on a little bit longer, and bargain to stay alive for the next second, you know things aren’t looking too bright or easy for the next 24 hours. In times like this, the world that I know to be, is too small. I imagine floating through the Milky Way and that buys me time. I am weightless and there are no walls closing in on me.

“How did I get here?” keeps rattling around in my head. I think I know, but I lie to myself and say I don’t know how I got here, because then it almost takes the guilt off my plate if I cross the line over to the Dark Side. If I knowingly walk in through the door that says “Under No Circumstances, Should You Walk Through This Door,” or not heed the advice of some random email in my inbox, ominously titled “Same Choices, Same Results”, then I have no one else to blame, but me, for my predicament.

I’m sitting at my desk, digging my fingers into the palms of both my hands, so hard that the right one bleeds. I’m looking at crumpled and shredded tissues scattered and strewn all over the floor, soaked with tears from the last two hours.

My lifeline is my dog. I imagine a rope from my belly button out the door, down the hall way, out the building and stretched from the main road all the way to my house where my dog is. The next hour is crucial for me. Can I pull myself out of this psychological quicksand that I’m in and crawl my way back home to my dog? She is the only reason I am alive. I have no friends and I have no family.

I used to think at times when things were bad, “Death has got to be better than what I’m going through”. Now, I’ve graduated and I think to myself, “I can’t wait for the pain to stop.” The thought of death soothes me and quenches my thirst for the ache in the very pit of my stomach to stop.