It was a dark night in the beginning of October. It wasn't from some sort of endless self-hatred that I did it... it just happened. I don't know... It was a game of Russian roulettes I suppose. I told myself, "either I die or I don't". I wanted to die... but was it wholeheartedly? I grabbed my boxes of pills. I won't say what it was or how much, but according to my googling, it was well enough to kill myself. I wasn't in the right state of mind. My thoughts were messy, weird. I think I saw stuff, but I can't remember. Anyway... Here's my story... --- Waking up... lots of cables and stuff in me. In my arms, in my stomach... I wonder where I am.... I turn my head and I see people, people that I recognize. First my little brother, then mum and then dad. They're sitting and looking at me. What am I going to say? I think.... I decide to say something. "Hey..." They smile. Time passes. I think we're talking... but I don't remember much. Mum's said much later that we watched some TV, talked, that I slept a lot... But I don't remember much. I am at ICU. And I realize what I've done... Time passes. I wake up, fall asleep. Wake up, fall asleep. A mantra ever repeating... Now and then I hit myself. My muscles contract so hard that it hurts. I have to do something. I hit myself. I shout out "what have I done? what have I done?" A nurse enters. She gives me some water to drink. I take a sip, swallow it, and... Boom! My stomach turns itself inside out. Up come the water! And the incredible pain in the chest and stomach... My memories are trying to draw themselves to what happened that night, that night days ago when I swallowed the pills. Yes... I was unconscious for several days... It was a Thursday morning, I wake up on Sunday. My memories are all meddled up. I think. I try to remember. I remember taking a pill, some juice, a pill and some juice. My quest for remembering is interrupted... Mum and dad look at me. They're not smiling this time.... They say something. I don't know what. Dad's crying. Mum's too. Questions flow. They all start with "Why" or "Do you know what you've done?". "Do you realize?" No. I don't realize. I don't know why. I just did it. Because my feelings told me to. There was no logic... I acted upon my feelings... But I didn't tell them that. I just nodded, cried a bit... wished I had died so I wouldn't have to endure the pain of a loving family hating my actions so bad. I've never seen dad cry before. And... he's so angry... the poor thing. "It is time to turn to God now!" he desperately pleads. Against all that I believe in, I nod, just to see a faint smile on his face. But he doesn't smile. He just... sighs... Time goes...A friend comes visiting. And suddenly the world around me grows larger. At first it was just my family that was affected! Now a friend is here... and what about other friends, that one special friend I have? Yes... they exist too. What will they say? I have been out of reach for five days. Nobody knows. Are they worried? Are they concerned? What am I going to tell people? Nothing of this was planned. I was just going to die, fade away... but now I have to rise up and face the consequences of my actions... So the world is getting larger... everybody is worried. Even at church they had special prayers for me. Me, an outcast. ---- As time goes, I get transferred to the psychiatric hospital and stay there till Christmas, and at Easter they section me, wheer I stay till summer. I'm out again. Yes. --- But yet I long for the emptiness, the nothingness that I felt while I was in coma. Everything was so calm, so quiet, so peaceful. I didn't exist, and yet I existed. There was something beautiful with it, but then... It wasn't real. It cannot solve one's problems... Did I reach a Nirvana while being unconscious, even for a second during these days of unconsciousness? Because there was beauty, and there was peace. Soemthing I so long for, and still do. I just hope I can achieve peace and beautiful feelings in a much different way. --- Just wanted to share my feelings... I'm happy to answer any questions.