The Time I Stole My Father’s Car

As soon as you read the title, this question probably popped in your mind. Why did this girl steal her father’s car? Well, luckily for whoever may be reading this you will find out. The short answer is that I stole it in order to kill myself. For the past week before the incident I was feeling really depressed. Not unusual but the depression was hitting pretty bad this time. I was very suicidal but actually didn’t think about taking his car until the night before so it was an impulsive decision. It was 7:30 AM when I started the ignition of the car and drove off while my dad and his esteemed fiancee were sleeping. I had never driven his or any car for that matter and was pretty decent at driving. I drove to the next town over, stopped in a Save Mart parking lot, and thought “what the fuck am I doing”. Too late to go back so I drove to the next town. As I was driving I came to see this bridge overlooking the freeway. I couldn’t muster up the strength to pull over. I don’t know why. My therapist thinks I didn’t jump because I care about my family, but that wasn’t it. Subconsciously I think I was afraid. Afraid of death? I don’t know. I wish I would have jumped. I really do. I just don’t really see a point in living. I used to but not anymore. People have told me that they care about me and love me, but I feel like they are trying to make me feel guilty for what I did. Manipulate me, I don’t know. I know this isn’t right, but in my mind that is how I saw is and even still see it. Why should I feel guilty for wanting to die if their feelings get hurt? Again, I know what I’m saying isn’t right but it is how I feel.