10%

So I’m going to check myself into the hospital on Monday. It was decided after I changed my prescription and had a talk with my counselor. Of course I could have gone that day, but my mom and her decided that it would be best to wait. See how the new meds effect me and plus there is no group therapy on the weekends. I told the counselor that I wanted to kill myself. Not because I was scared or I was in pain at the time. I looked her in the eyes, and with an absolute straight face I told her I wanted to kill myself. I told her how easy it would be. To just go ahead and push myself off. Yet there was still something holding me back. A feeling I couldn’t explain. She told me it was most likely because a part of me still had hope. A small, quiet 10% percent still told me there was another option. I always figured it was fear. Fear of what happens next. Then a part of me started to agree with her. I told her I hated that part. It was the thing that kept me moving forward. The other 90 despised that part. I want to squash it. Like an ant. I don’t want it holding me back anymore. I realized that I’m alone. There is no one coming to help me. There is no guardian angle who will pick me up every time I scrape my knee. All I have is myself. No matter how many counselors, psychiatrists, family members, or friends say they have my back, I know they are lying. The truth is everyone is alone. We are all just floating in our little bubbles, staring blankly at each other. Sometimes we scrape up against each other, but we never really “merge”. We are all still separated. I am no exception. There were probably times when someone needed me and I was deaf to it. I just let them sink, like everyone is doing to me. Somehow, someway I will end it all. Then I can have my silence.