First attempt at opening up…

It hurt.

I expected it to hurt, but not this much.

Now I’m not trying to paint a picture of a soppy story of a teenager’s life that gets too much for her to handle. I don’t want your pity or anything from you, I just really need to get this out of my head and off of my chest.

I’ve attempted to commit suicide. Now I want to get this straight I absolutely hate suicide. I might even go to the lengths of saying that I “loath” it. It is a cowardly way to escape your problems, but I do understand why people do it. I however am not trying to escape any life problems, well not that I’m aware of anyway. For all I know I could be. To be truthful I probably am. I am surrounded by depression, anxiety and anger. It’s starting to rub off. But that is not why I am trying to kill myself.

I hurt.

I really hurt. My head feels like it is going to pop. I can feel the pressure inside my skull building; I’ve tried taking the headache and migraine pills and even going to the hospital and getting injections when it gets so painful I am awake until 3 in the morning crying from the pain. Nothing helps. It isn’t all the time I get the occasional break when I can breathe but other than that it is a constant. Like the sun. You may not see it but it is always there. Certain stuff triggers it and makes it unbearable, but it isn’t an overly critical part of my tale so I will leave the finer details to a later point.

Back to the suicide, I have thought it over; who I want to find me, what I will use as the catalyst for my death, where I want to be when I take my last breath, when I actually want to end the torment and the note. The whole idea of leaving a note makes me nervous. I want to make sure that no one blames themselves. Like I said earlier I am surrounded by depression, anxiety and anger so you could imagine how terrified I am about leaving a note. This is such a detrimental part; I don’t want to affect people too drastically. I know it will affect them but I need them to know it was going to happen anyway no matter how many times they asked if I was ok. I want them to know I tried to help myself. I tried to let them help. I tried to let the doctor’s help. I even went to the doctors and told him I thought I might be depressed. I told him the symptoms and he said that I just had a migraine problem and prescribed me stronger pills. I was and still am desperate, and that is why my thoughts have considered the idea of suicide. I was dismayed when I first came to realize that this may be my last option. It terrified me, I was overwhelmed with emotions and my pain increased to unbearable heights. I started sleeping a lot more. People were starting to get worried so I told them I have a headache or am just feeling under the weather. They are constantly asking if I’m “OK”. I don’t know how to answer and I’m not overly fond of lying so I smile and nod, they give up pretty quickly after I start smiling.

You see before the pain and on the odd occasion when I can relax and bear the pain I am happy, I am a very optimistic, trusting and open individual that’s why it is so obvious to everyone. Except my friend, my main friend you know the one that should know you inside and out?

She can’t see past the mask.

We’re close, she tells me everything and I tell her usual girly secrets like who I like and what not but she doesn’t know the darker stuff. I’m afraid to tell her.  She frightens me, she is actually clinically depressed. She’s on the pills, seeing a shrink and constantly going to the doctor. It makes me feel selfish because when I finally go through with it, all the progress she made may go straight down the loo. I hope she understands. She has said to me on several occasions if I die she is going to commit suicide and I think that everyone will blame me for her death also. So I won’t just be killing me.

 

Murderer?

                        When I kill myself, if someone kills themselves as well because of my death does that make me a killer? I don’t want to be the catalyst for someone else’s death. I feel selfish, ashamed, revolted and most of all alone. Have you ever just been surrounded by people who love and care about you more then you could ever imagine but still felt alone? That’s me, in a room full of light but I can’t see through my own personal darkness.

I wish I could just tell her. Tell her that even when she hugs me I’m alone, that when I try to fall asleep I’m really just lying there with my eyes closed trying not to cry myself to sleep every night, to just tell her about the un-ending throbbing inside my skull. To tell her that would kill her. It would rip her to shreds; her only life line, her only friend, the only bit of normality in her life is a lie.

I’m a lie; everything I do is to protect people around me. How can that be though? How can I want to protect everyone and still want to kill myself? It is so selfish and insensitive. I’m even lying to myself by saying that it won’t affect them too drastically. It will. I know it will, but I can’t stop myself now. The seed of temptation has been planted. I want to escape my pain, escape the lies and the torment. I want to be able to walk down the street and just breathe to not constantly hold back the tears. To not have to think.

I don’t want to have to think about the domino effects that my decisions could cause, I don’t want to think about how I could and more than likely will become a killer in a sense, I don’t want to have to think about how to conceal my pain. I just don’t want to think anymore. I’m sick of living in my head all the time.

Could death be the antidote? Could it light up the darkness? Could it let me feel secure? Loved even? Or would it just all go blank? Would I just disappear? I don’t want to just disappear. I just don’t want to be in pain anymore. I’m lost, helpless, and empty. I wish they had meetings like AA or something. To be honest I’m not even sure if I would go I would just like to have the option. Maybe if I told someone earlier the idea of suicide wouldn’t be so cemented into my thoughts. It may have opened up other doors with better options. Options that weren’t so complete, so definite, and so cold.

I want options that are warm, welcoming, and reliable. I want to walk into a room and feel the warmth. I want to be greeted with a hug that warms me up on the inside and chases away the pain. Into a room full of people that welcomes me with open arms and words of understanding. I want to be able to rely on them, to be able to trust them with my darkness and not to be afraid of what they may think of me. I want to be able to just cry in front of them and to know that they know how I feel. I think I just need someone to understand my pain.

I need it. I need it more than air, more than water. I need someone to say “I know what you are going though, I’ve been there, I’ve walked that road, and I have survived.” I need to be able to believe that it is possible to walk out the other end of the dark tunnel, to see the light through the darkness. I need hope. I am desperate for something that I know I will never get. People can’t understand and they never will.

Hopless?

I have given up hoping, given up trying, given up caring.

I see no possibility in my future of a solution. This is why I am going to finally do it. My catalyst is the knife. I know the main arteries; I understand how to go about it all properly. I have set it all up so the effects of my passing will be minimal. Hopefully.

I start. The blade presses into my inner arm and I slide it across my skin. I see the blood follow the blade like a predator failing to catch it’s pray the blade is quick and sharp the blood sluggish. I pull the blade away from my arm amazed at the amount of blood and pain. I knew it would hurt but I thought my pain would eclipse the sting of the knife.

I’m in awe at the amount of blood. I thought there would be more. I didn’t hit the artery. The pain is taking over now. The pain in my arm is at war with the throbbing in my skull. It just keeps increasing, just flooding me with pain. More than I could even imagine. I can’t tolerate it anymore, my body gives up and it all goes black…

Victimised…

I woke up. The worst possible thing I could imagine had just happened. I failed. The pain in my arm had faded and the blood had dried. How could this happen? I have victimised myself. Put myself through an immense amount of pain for nothing. I tricked myself into believing that this would help, that it might end my silent suffering. I deluded myself into thinking I could actually go through with killing myself, into thinking that this wouldn’t affect anyone too much, into thinking that it would all just be over. I was wrong, so very, very wrong.

I could have ruined lives, put people through an un-justified amount of pain caused them to question themselves, caused them to spin into a spiral of self-destruction. I could have directly caused someone else to commit suicide just so that I didn’t have to live with my pain. My unbearable pain that has gotten so much worse since the attempt…

I feel like an idiot. A fool. To be tempted by something so definite and elusive. To think that pain could end pain. If only I had the courage to attempt it again or to just tell someone.

I’m not sure what actually hurt more, the knife or writing this… Probably this. My head is throbbing again, I still haven’t told anyone but at least I’m trying.