It's either cut or take the pills and die. I'm going to. I know it. I'm too weak to fight against the hurt anymore. I rationalize it by telling myself that it'll keep me from taking all those pills that I have. Cause I really want to take the pills. I really really do. It would be so easy. I wouldn't even have to swallow them. They're melt-tabs. I haven't been taking the prescription for at least 6 months, even though I'm supposed to be taking it. So I have a lot of them. Is it enough, I wonder? The thought of just going to sleep and not waking up is so seductive. I was feeling so good and then, out of nowhere, here I am, back again in this hell. I don't want to be here again. I've worn out my passport and used up all my frequent flyer miles going back and forth between bliss and hell. Don't ask me what that meant. I have no idea. It's just what my exhausted mind spit out and told my fingers to type.