I'm hurting. You would think that I'd be used to it, since I've been in this dark place before But it still feels unbearable right now. And there's nothing anyone can do about it. Not family, not a friend, not even a therapist. So I sit here in my lonely hole, and contemplate what I should do about it. Do I stay or do I go? I start to think about my previous attempts, and it makes me angry. It makes me angry that I couldn't "get it right." It makes me angry that everyone promised me that things would get better, when "better" is just an illusion. I won't lie, I like the illusion. I like to be swept away in the idea that I am "better" and won't suffer anymore. But then reality hits. I'm on my journey to recovery, they say. Well what the h*ll kind of journey is it when I always end where I started? I make suicide contracts at the hospital. I promise to call someone when I get to my low place. I promise to get to a safe place. I make these contracts in vain. I know that I won't call. I know that I will seclude myself in my house with sharp objects and a stocked medicine cabinet. I know this as I sign my name on the dotted line. I sit here in my lonely hole, trying to make sense of everything. Why can't I fight these feelings? Why can't I fight these thoughts? They say that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Well if what I feel is temporary, why hasn't it gone away? Why does it come back? I have no more tears to cry, and my heart is heavy. I try to distract myself. It works - for a while. Then it doesn't. I listen to "Everybody Hurts," by REM. I have it on repeat. I try to soothe myself. But it, too, stops working. I sit here in my lonely hole, writing this post. My thoughts are yelling at this point, telling me to hurry and get it over with. But I'm still sitting here, and I don't know why. Maybe I'm waiting for something. Maybe I'm hoping that this pain will go away if I take my time. If I get up ...... its over. I know what I will do. No one is around to stop me. And so I sit here in my lonely hole. Sitting. Perhaps waiting. Holding on.