I made a promise to myself six years ago that if I was ever low enough to seriously consider suicide again, I would give myself a month at the least to think it over before I did it. Tonight starts that month. Since distraction is the best cure for bad emotions that I know of, even if it's temporary, writing this is kind of my way of keeping the Reaper at bay for a few minutes and giving myself a chance to find the strength to put it off a few minutes longer after I finish. Suicide has been on the edge of my thoughts since I was a teenager. Sometimes it's stronger, sometimes it's barely there, but it is always there humming in the back of my mind when I've had a bad day or something unfortunate happens. The animal instinct part of me kept me from following through on it until I found myself at the rock bottom of an abusive relationship when I just couldn't muster the strength to really care anymore. A lucky coincidence saved me that day, and I can't say I was happy when I woke up in the hospital, but a few months afterwards I could look back and see what a waste it would have been and how many people I would have deeply hurt if I had actually succeeded, even though I had been sure no one would care at all. I had a lot of time to think about why I did it, and I realized that as much as I thought I did, I didn't actually want to die. I didn't want it to be The End, I just wanted peace in my own mind and an end to the pain and death seemed like the easiest way out. I still want those things, but right now, I feel like I'm never going to get them no matter how hard I try. Even my dreams are painful most of the time and the world is a horrer to me. Most of my problems are probably self-inflicted, but I don't know how to fix them anymore than I know how to tell the voice that whispers "Die." in my ear to go away. I tried therapy for awhile, but it's expensive and they jerked me around on scheduling so badly that the aggrivation of trying to get an appointment made was almost as exhausting as the problems I was there to solve, so I quit. Rationally, I've come to suspect that medication might at least allow me some space for awhile to figure out how to be the person I want to be, but I'm scared of the side effects. The people around me think I'm this paragon of strength and courage who always does the right thing, but I know what I'm like on the inside and they would be shocked if they could see what I see. The only thing that keeps me going most of the time is the knowledge that if I don't pick myself up and forge on it will only hurt the people around me, and I can't do that. How horrible of a person would I be if I made them suffer because of my weakness? So, I'm at a stalemate. The past is too awful to think about, the future is too terrifying to think about, and I'm so tired that all I want to do is give up, but I can't, and reinforcements are nowhere in sight. Anyway, that's enough staring into the darkness for one night. If you read this, thanks. At the very least, it kept me busy long enough to be tired enough to try and sleep, so that's eight or so hours I'm still alive and I suppose that can be counted as a success.