A few days before I tried to die, I had attempted to self medicate with antidepressants I bought off an acquaintance. I felt hopeful, I thought I wouldn’t feel crazy anymore. It did nothing for me. I probably used the wrong dosage, but at the time I decided to give up hope.
Friday night, I get home from my job. I’m a cashier and waiter under the table. Tips are always fluctuating between me feeling rich and getting 8 bucks for 10 hours of work. I don’t remember how much I earned then, I just remember that at 6 pm that day, all my friends were walking the stage at high school graduation while I was barred from the ceremony because the Assistant Principal went on a suspension spree over a huge water bottle fight earlier that week, and apparently carrying a water bottle afterwards meant I was a no-good anarchist.
I got home, avoiding Facebook and Instagram and all of the photos of my friends achieving something, but alas the urge to make myself feel bad was too great. After I checked my social media, I watched an episode of my favorite sit-com on Netflix until I just eventually stared right through the screen. I felt like crying over nothing, I was just so tired. I went to my room and sat down on the floor.
I stared at my bookshelf for a good 10 minutes before I got the energy to get up and look around at the exact same bookshelf I see every day, as if something’s changed. On a whim, out of despair and to amuse myself, I picked up a dollar coin and flipped it saying “Heads I live, tails I die”. It landed on tails immediately. I flipped again. “Best two out of three?” I thought, as the coin landed softly on the carpet with the head facing me. An emotionless yet depressed third flip yielded the tail side of the coin, and suddenly I’d become the most motivated I’ve ever felt.
I got up at walked to the kitchen. I filled a glass with water and I took half of all the antidepressants that were meant to help me live, and a few Vicodin. After I flushed it down with refreshingly cold water, I pulled Vodka out of the freezer and took a gulp for good measure, hoping that the depressants would let me just sleep my life away. As I shuffled back to my room, I pass my sister and I hug her more warmly than I’d ever done before, make a few jokes and puns, and say good night. With my door shut, I type out a status on Facebook apologizing for being a nuisance to everyone. I’d hurt too many people, irritated them, simply been in the way. The world would be better off without me and I’d be better off without the world. I whip out my iPod and create a playlist named “Thanks for all the fish” for a bit of literary humor before I die, and put only one song on it to play on repeat: “No Surprises” by Radiohead.
I texted my girlfriend I love her and told her what was about to happen wasn’t her fault, then I passed out in bed. I woke up dizzy and drunk at 1 am, No Surprises still whispering in my ear, to see that my girlfriend has arrived, in tears, to stop me. I was extremely out of it as I held her while she cried, and she convinced me to give her the rest of the antidepressants. My parents, concerned with saving money, made me make myself vomit it all out after my girlfriend went back home. I felt sleepy and unsteady until the late afternoon the next day, and I deleted my suicide note from Facebook.
Now, a month later, I’m tied between cherishing my new chance at life and shaming myself for something as simply as eating a few more pills. Honestly my suicidal thoughts will probably never go away, I’m just trying to stay alive to maybe achieve something, or at least bring a smile to my girlfriend’s face. My parents don’t believe in depression so therapy is impossible for me to go to, and I have no more pills to use properly. So for now, I’ll stick to simply distracting myself with binges of Netflix and video games to help me forget myself.