It’s not like I haven’t tried. Just failed. Like pretty much everything else I’ve done.
My psychiatrist would say this way of thinking is illogical. And he would be right.
Im not terminally ill.
There’s nothing physically wrong with me.
But here it is, as it was before, and will be again, until the day it wins.
Tried cutting, never got deep enough. Felt too good to stop.
Tried pills. Lots of times. But I kept waking up, sometimes days later.
Tried hanging myself, cops took me away for a few days. Assholes.
Tried swimming out in the ocean until I couldn’t swim anymore. The tide that should have taken me further out brought me back in.
All the times I’ve come close, something keeps pulling me out. The proverbial angel on my shoulder.
I hate being told what to do