Every day…

Every day I hope that something can happen to make this easier for me. On my way to work, can someone run a red light and hit my car, can I just not wake up, can something out of my control happen, to just get me out of here. I don’t want to be here, and I haven’t for about a year. All these people who die in accidents, who are murdered, who just DIE… and here I am. Nothing…

I’ve been cutting for almost 10 years… I’m 24 years old, with the same habits I had in high school… it was never a ‘I want to die’ but more of a release. I feel better after I do it, I’d rather feel physical pain than emotional. I’d rather have a physically abuse boyfriend than an emotional one… I’d rather be hit, than be cheated on… I’d rather FEEL pain, than know it.

Last year I tried desperately to hit a vein in both of my wrists – I’m pale, so following the blue line wasn’t hard, but I just couldn’t get deep enough. I’d gone deeper than I ever had – and go to what looked to be like tissue, I’d poke it and try to cut it and honestly, I couldn’t get any deeper. I to this day have purple scars on both my wrists from my FAILED attempts. I didn’t even pass out – my body wouldn’t bleed! Every day since that night, in a Food Lion parking lot, in my car in the pouring rain… I’ve prayed (and I’m not very religious, but I’m praying to SOMETHING) that something can happen to just make it happen for me. That obviously I’m incapable of even taking my own life… can something just do it for me.

I sleep every night with a loaded 9mm next to my bed, courtesy of a military spouse… it would be so easy to point it at myself and pull the trigger… but I worry that I won’t do it right, I’ll wind up in the hospital, brain dead, or paralyzed. At least with cutting, if I fail, no one knows I fail – I cover it up with clothing. A bullet wound, not so much.

Tonight was the first night since last year, that I’ve really (not superficially) put a blade to my arm and yanked it down… after .2 seconds of a sting, I feel relief. But I’d rather feel nothing. I still don’t want to be here. I’m not happy – nothing makes me happy. I have two dogs, they make me happy… and I worry if I were to go, who would take care of them… who would even know to come here to get them – my spouse is deployed, and no one I know comes around by twice a year. They would go hungry, they would likely starve. At this point, my two dogs are what are keeping from even attempting further. At least until the deployed gets home.

What kind of person can’t even end their own damn life? That just makes me feel even more worthless…