Suicidal Thoughts.

What if the only way not to feel bad is to stop feeling anything at all, forever?

It's something I can't quite put into one sentence. Not one word can single it out. I could try to string the words together with a pretty bow but there's nothing pretty about the silent tears that fall down your cheeks. You can't romanticise the numbness as it seizes your whole body. The gasps sound so very desperate as you try to get up from the floor and you can't seem to find your footing anymore. You may have walked miles and climbed mountains but moving a millimetre feels too much. You wrap your arms around yourself as if to pretend you've got someone there. But as you open your eyes you notice there is no one to be found.

It's different for everyone but the outcome you crave appears so similar. Suicide can feel terrifying at some point but then suddenly it's this exciting dream. It's something that will confuse you if you've never felt this way before. Because of course it's human nature to want to live or so I've been told. You see, I get this feeling late at night and early in the morning. It manages to cloud that desperate need to want to grow and thrive. It makes me want to shrink and shrivel into the ground. To take up less space rather than encourage the world to see me.

Sometimes I tell myself I'm okay. I repeat it over and over in my head. It's constant. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm scared that if this stops, even for a moment, I will drown in all the reasons I'm not. And to me that's like each one of my organs failing resulting in this empty feeling on the inside. I've always covered up the darkest of situations with a smile. This is where the trouble began, with that innocent smile. Because now I struggle to allow it to falter. Even a little bit. And maybe this is why I feel like I don't actually exist. To others I don't have my own voice. I desperately want people to know me; not the stuff they think they know. The real me. The me with and without suicidal thoughts. The me who cried herself to sleep on the floor behind a locked door last night. But also the me that can genuinely smile and giggle. The one you can lean on for support and love.

I just think that staying alive shouldn't be such a exhausting task. It's draining to think about and plan my death every day. Or actively work to avoid it. The thoughts can come and go but for now it's all I can think about. Last night I was hysterical in my bedroom on my hospital floor. I banged my head against the wall in a desperate need to knock the urges and thoughts out of my head. Maybe to even knock myself unconscious. But it didn't work and I slept on the floor under my sink. I woke up in tears at the prospect of another day being me. Living. A doctor once told me as he stitched up my wrist that life isn't for everyone. And at first I was shocked but then I realised how true that can be. I've lost four people to suicide this year alone. And it hurts that they have gone but they must have been in so much pain. Tortured by their mind. I can sadly relate.

People tell me to try a little harder. Become a little more motivated and not to spend my days in bed and my nights awake under my sink. They tell me like it's easy. But I've tried. I have tried so hard to be the good daughter. The good patient that doesn't self harm. The best friend people would want. To be good enough. But I've failed each time. And then people leave or give up on me. I just wish I wasn't so easy to give up, you know? Missing people comes in huge tidal waves and a lot of the time it feels like I'm drowning. That my tears are as thick and endless as the sea. So I try not to care and love so much but I always do. I usually love the people who hurt me the most; I'm not a very good judge of character. And I tend to look at my scars a lot and I love them only because they have stayed with me far longer than most people have.

You know I used to walk along bridges late at night? I'd see the sky reflected on the gentle water. So calm and peaceful. It's a very long way down to the bottom and I used to tell myself I needed to let myself sink. To be smothered and hugged tightly by the water. And I used to buy blades and vodka. The vodka to numb the physical and mental pain. The blades to end my life. I'd keep them as a "just in case" solution. A lot of people with suicidal thoughts do this. Ironically this usually prevents a suicide because you have access to the means and therefore you feel safer. It's comforting to know you can do it if things got that difficult. I do understand that this is very hard to get your head around if you've never felt suicidal.

My main driving force behind suicide is love. Again sounds rather strange because I guess people often want to live because of love in it's various forms. However, I find the problem with love these days is that if someone tells me they love me, instead of feeling cared for, I just wonder how long for. Days, weeks, months, or years? I worry and maybe that's why I never fully believe in love. I'm too scared to. And if I'm terrified of love then my reasons to live are much smaller than someone who welcomes love with open arms.