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Why I don't ask for help

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[this is really not a suicide note. I'm not doing anything at the moment. But this is just something I wrote about why I feel I can't tell people close to me about what's in my head ...]

Why I didn't ask for help

I'm dead. Or locked up in some crazy house for failures, raving like a loon and spitting out my meds.

Either way,I didn't ask you for help.

It's not that I didn't care about hurting you. Truth is, I cared about very few things.
But not hurting you made my very short list of things that mattered.
A little in the grand scheme of things, which was about all I could muster for anyone

Maybe I could have told you.

I want to die.
I'm all alone in the world.
What could you have done?
Been there for me, I suppose.

And been there every time I felt this encompassing overwhelming thing ...
this thing begging to be muted
swallowed
by, well ...you know what I did to swallow it ...

Instead of doing that in that moment
of desperation
I'd have called you.

Are you asking that now?
Why I didn't ask for help?

Help me. Help, I want to die. Make me feel better, or
(and here's the threat)
I will do this thing to myself
and you will hurt from it.

Idle threats probably. Manipulation. Buy me a cookie or I'll scream.
Spend your weekend holding me or I'll cut ... or swallow ... or jump.
Every day presenting you with
The threat de jure.

Maybe I could have told you I was hurting, but not thrown it all at you.
I could have shared without making myself a victim.
That's what you'd probably have told me the tenth time I called.
well, the tenth time that day.
You can't expect the world to fix you.
You'd say that. Rightfully so.
But If I could have done that - taken responsibility and made myself better ...
well, then I wouldn't have
you know ...
If I could have gotten past the helplessness ...
well then maybe.

So I didn't ask for help.
It was my gift to you really.
ok, so my gift to me allowing myself to feel less guilty about hurting you like this
But still.
I didn't give you the chance to
get sick of my certain and unfair melodrama
(imagine a note like this every day)
no chance to deny my demands
To call my bluff.

To ensure you'd be an innocent party
I didn't tell you ...
you know.
this
 
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