At Wits End

I am at my wits end- depression has taken its toll on me again.

Two weeks ago, I unsuccessfully tried my second suicide attempt. I know, it’s stupid but I don’t know what to do.

I should really see a doctor as soon as possible.

– – – –

I could barely find the time to blog. I don’t know why, maybe because I happen to be too lazy these past days.

Who knows?

– – – –

I couldn’t even write down my thoughts continuously, in paragraph form, as I usually do. All I could form are short sentences, thoughts that come to my mind which I try to catch.

My thoughts are like a speeding bullet.

Fast.

Deadly.

And the next thing you know, they’re gone.

– – – –

No, I’m no lunatic and I do not fall under the typical ’sira ulo’. Too much thinking, too much emotional stress.

too much of everything.

And then my mind shuts down, my body would like to respond no more.

– – – –

I feel like a child right now. Hurting, in so many ways. Trying to discover what each emotion is and what it means to me.

I write to loosen up, to release whatever tension has built up within. To spare myself of another crazy stint called suicide attempt number three. or maybe, something called suicide- plain and simple.

– – – –

No, don’t come talking to me later on about this. This is how I react to matters such as these. I write, to loosen up. To actually let it go. And then tomorrow, there would be no more. I’ll be okay once again.

– – – –

I would like to curl up, just like a baby.

they say that’s what we do- when we’re hurt.

because we try to re-enact our position inside our mother’s womb, where we feel safe.

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