Day 229

It’s funny how I spent two years thinking about killing myself, only to now be afraid of dying. And just to set the record straigt I never WANTED to kill myself–If I did, I would have done it by now. It was more of a curiosity than anything else, which is something I grew up to realize is not particularly normal. But now I’m medicated and everything is fine.

Everything is fine.

When I first started my meds everyone around me got real weird. Like I’d take one pill and start shitting a rainbow out of my ass. In reality I took my first pill and just became dizzy and nauseous. 229 pills later and the dizziness is gone, but I’m still waiting for that rainbow to come flying out.

But now that I can’t drink I spend most of my time writing. Not really writing about anything in particular, more so writing just for the sake of having something to do. So now when people ask me what I did today, I can tell them I wrote. It’s a nice smokescreen.

When I told my friends about it, they all seemed fine. But to be honest, I don’t even know if they’re my friends anymore. I used to be the funny one everyone loved. But now it feels like I’m trying too hard.

It’s funny how I spent two years not trying at all and now I’m here trying to hard.

I guess I’m just making up for lost time.

But it’s coming up on seven months now that I’ve been sober and antideppressed. And while I no longer wish I was dead anymore, I don’t necessarily celebrate the fact that I’m alive.

My Mom still checks up on me a few times a day as if I’m perpetually standing on the ledge of a building. Little does she know, I’d never jump off a building if I wanted to kill myself. Too much time to regret it, and there’s still a slim chance I’d survive if I did the math wrong and didn’t pick a tall enough building. And since I’m doing the math, the math would probably be wrong.

My therapist says I should stop doubting myself. But I wonder how she’d feel about me not believing in my own abilities to kill myself properly. I’d love to see her mental gymnastics get out of that one.

But she won’t have to worry about that. Because I still doubt myself and know I’ll get the math wrong. Also because I don’t want to kill myself anymore. Not that I ever wanted to kill myself but–you get the point.