Member-only story
Once Upon a Time, I Wanted to Die.
On the other side of suicidal
Yes, it was over a girl.
How quaint, I know. I can smile upon it from over here in the future, but back in that present, all hope was lost. I refer to those full two months as The Darkness. There were no colors during May and June of 2015.
Only black.
I didn’t want to be alone, but sharing time with people gave me no relief. I wasn’t depressed, I was destroyed. It felt like poison in my veins. I couldn’t stand, sit, sleep, watch TV, drive, do ANYTHING to make the pain stop. It was relentless.
“Sleeping” was the worst. This was when there was absolutely no escape. No distraction was available to me. The full onslaught of my torturous existence was cranked up to 11 as I writhed and screamed into my pillow until my throat felt close to bursting.
I got some sleeping pills.
Didn’t work.
I took more than I was supposed to. Not by much, though. This wasn’t an attempt to do anything but get some much needed rest. But it was just impossible. It was fitful at best and I would wake up every morning in a neutral state of mind.
Then I would remember her.
