This place in time, yours and mine

Hey to everyone here on SP. going to start by saying how much I admire the strength you all have for reaching out to a site like this. I’ve been reading for a while, but never registered. I wish i had done it a long time ago. I’m at my fourth year in college, and I suppose in retrospect of my life, it’s always been a steady emotional decline, with small spikes of good big enough to keep me from noticing the downhill, but small enough to keep me from thinking things would really improve in the long run. I ran in front of a car when I was nine years old on purpose. it was a red ford Taurus, with a license plate that started with 3 . the sun was going down, and I had biked an hour away from my house to do it (childishly believing that an hour distance from my house would make it impossible for my father to know I was dead.)

Needless to say, I hit the front right corner of the car as opposed to square center, went over the windshield and got ejected onto the sidewalk, on which i landed face first. Before I planned this whole charade, I expected that If i were to wake up from my attempt, i’d have to explain to the EMT’s on the ambulance what happened, what I was doing so far away from home, and all that jazz.Turns out that when I woke up, it was pitch black, and I was still on the sidewalk,freezing cold and lightheaded, sore and covered in blood. fuckin hit and run. from that day It’s been an evolution of emotion I suppose as I’ve gotten older. that night I biked home hating myself, thinking how much of a freak i was to attempt a suicide, and even more so that I failed. what I would say to people, Why I did it anyway. what was wrong with me?

I told my dad I was climbing the piles of gravel at a construction site and fell off, hit my head pretty hard, and would be more careful next time. and to this day he believes it, probably wouldn’t want to believe the truth were I ever to tell him. or tell anyone. The real point I’m trying to make in telling you that story, is that i’ve lied to everyone I know about possibly the most critical hours of my youth, because I don’t trust any of them. I want to share it with you, with whoever is reading this. because as much as I can try to convince myself i can live on my own without support, its just not true. living isn’t waking up every day wondering when the stars will line up to give you the perfect way out, the lightning strike or the plane crash, the brain tumor. whatever it is, its not living. and Between sink or swim, at this point of my life, I’m going to try and swim. And i needed your help to do it. thank you for taking the time to read a little about me. you’ve all been my inspiration.

-C