But someone needs to hear she’s not alone. ❤
There are guns in the house I live in. They are locked up, and I don’t even know where the safes are. I only have access to a few days’ worth of my meds, and the rest are hidden away until Saturdays when I refill my pill boxes. But other people’s meds are out in the house where I could have access to them. Knives and sharps are not locked up.
All these facts go through my head as I try to convince myself I am in control, and suicide is just a thought.
But it’s not just a thought. It’s also the feeling of wanting death and nothingness and unconsciousness, not just so the pain will stop but also because it seems like the time has come for my life to end. Suicidal feelings are Van Gogh’s “The Scream” – silent, yet horrific, as they tear through the deepest…
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