That feeling of nothingness. Emptiness. Aloneness. It overwhelms every inch of your body. Silence can be the loudest cry. The voices in your head are getting louder and louder. Cuts on your arms are becoming deeper and deeper. The nights are becoming longer and longer. Before you know it, rock bottom seems like your best friend.
I constantly say that rock bottom is somewhere that I have never experienced. I say this because the day I hit there is the day that I kill myself. That will be the day that rock bottom will become a real thing. Whenever I go to a Mental Health appointment, they always ask me on a scale 1-10 on how close I am to rock bottom. Each session it can vary. Recently though, it’s 9. I get told I’m brave and must be strong because I’ve never hit rock bottom, or want to believe I haven’t. Truth is I’ve probably hit rock bottom that many times now we are best friends.
Why do I say this though? Because its true, the day I commit suicide is the day that I lost, and that day would be a 10 on the scale, as I felt that bad. I’ve been suicidal for years now, and I’ve had a few too many attempts and trying to take my life. The other night, I saw this come up on my Instagram, and it fits the situation perfectly.
I’m not suicidal, but if a car came while I was crossing the street, I don’t think I would move out the way. And if someone held a gun to my head, I wouldn’t exactly beg for my life. In fact, I’d laugh and tell them to go for it. No, I’m not suicidal. But if I had an opportunity to die without having to kill myself, If probably take it.
How wrong is that though? That I live in this permanent mindset that I want to die. Why should I feel like this? I never asked for this life, for Christ sake I never asked to be born. I was brung into this cruel world by two people who cant see that their own little girl is falling to pieces with every step she is taking, and she doesn’t know how long she can carry on for.
Rock bottom, a place that I should make myself a new home. Going to be here for a while.