Running Out of Time

     Three months ago tomorrow, I ran away. My parents had just found a bunch of pills in my room that I had secretly bought from the store. I thought it was hopeless, I couldn’t even kill myself without getting caught. Three suicide attempts and three other close ones, and I can’t even rid the world of myself. I’m supposed to be recovering after being hospitalized for three days, spending 45 days in residential, 5 therapists, and having all the support I could ask for. But the thing about having support is that it isn’t that it doesn’t matter if you can’t bring yourself to trust them when you’ve been taught that trust only gets you hurt time after time.
     That night my Spanish teacher convinced my mom to stop calling the police, came to my house, and held me while I cried. She’s the family I’ve never had, my only real friend, and the only person I have ever truly trusted. Every time I’ve trusted someone, I’ve been betrayed, but not with her. I don’t want her to feel like everything she’s done for me, all the times she’s truly saved my life, is just a waste. Right now, I don’t want to be saved, but I promised her I would tell her if I was gong to kill myself. I make very few promises.
     I just can’t do this anymore though. Waking up every day in this pain that either kills me or reminds me that I have a purpose to help others who feel this way. How can I possibly make it through this and help others? It hurts so bad, I can’t breathe. I don’t know what to do anymore. But I can’t keep running, because one day I’ll run out of time, running away my whole life or running towards my death.