One suicide ain’t enough

About four months ago I tried to take my own life by driving as fast as I could head on into a truck. I couldn’t live with the things I’d done to my favorite people or with myself. Living in this body I’m so trapped. I drugged myself up on benzos, alcohol, coke and weed all night and crashed into that truck. I have no memory of that night or the weeks before, so I don’t know how rash the decision was. I do know I was severely depressed, my sister told me I talked to her on the phone crying and I couldn’t promise her that I wouldn’t hurt myself. I do remember one of the main reasons I was so distraught, and please don’t judge me on this because I was really fucked up on alcohol and benzos (not that that’s an excuse), was because I raped my best friend while she was sleeping. It was the most horrible thing id ever done I really couldn’t believe I did that I felt so shitty. To clarify it wasn’t for long and I didn’t even finish. But unfortunely she got pregnant and had to get an abortion, all while I was in the hospital. I really should have died, I really wish I did. I brok both ankles, right fibia and tibia, both knees, both femurs, my hip socket, and lacerated my liver and pancreas, lost a kidney, my spleen, and part of my colon. On top of all that my heart stopped and the did emergency sinching of the aorta to save me. I had terrible hallucinations when I was in the ICU as well, much of my memory of that time I can’t trust because I was so delusional with all the trauma and drugs they were giving me. Anyway it was a very long recovery and now I am finally back home. Can barely walk, can’t don’t anything I used to love. Living with my parents. Having no freedom. No way to make money. No direction in life. And tonight I’m lying here next to a kitchen knife about to slit my throat