Attempting suicide was the scariest experience of my life thus far. The dizziness I felt was unreal. It was as if I was spinning in circles and I couldn’t stop. The smallest movement and I felt like the world was tilting every which way. Then there were the tremors that had my body shaking as if I were sitting in the snow in my underwear. Not to mention the vomiting and the inability to think coherently. For months after the attempt, I couldn’t talk about it. At night I would relive the experience in my head. Each time I’d feel the fear of it all and it made my stomach churn in the worst way. The fear of dying. For as long as I could remember, I’ve wanted to die. That never changed. I would hope for it and dream for it. When I was finally within reach of my wish I realized I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to die. When I feel those thoughts of wanting to die creeping up in my mind, I revert to my suicide attempt and the fear is enough to remind me that I want to live. Except right now I’m sitting in my apartment having flashbacks to my incident and I don’t feel that fear. It’s gone. I don’t feel anything. There’s just nothing. My girlfriend said she loved me and I couldn’t feel it, I couldn’t care. I tried to tell my girlfriend and her response was a fuck you. There’s something wrong but either she doesn’t care or is too busy with her own problems to be burdened with me. I don’t feel anything. I gave life a second chance to get better and be awesome but maybe it’s time I gave death a real first chance.

I just had the scariest fucking dream. I can’t even talk about it. I’m still shaken up by it. I need to be wrapped in someone’s arms. Fuck it I’m going to shower and take off I need that hug.

Sometimes I forget why I want to live.