I almost swallowed a whole pill bottle last night. I opened it to take one, but then I nearly dumped all of them in my mouth. It was like I didn’t even realize why I was doing it. After I realized what I was doing, I actually almost still went through with it. I lifted the bottle to my mouth, parted my lips, and then nearly started crying as I lowered it.
I guess I just didn’t want to do the same thing Meg did, trying to kill herself, overdosing on pills, and then living for weeks in the ICU.
I also almost cut myself. I lifted my pink scissors to my arm, they touched, and I tried to do it, but the blade wasn’t sharp enough with the fearful pressure I was applying. It didn’t work, and I was partly glad, but more so, I hated myself more for not going through with it. For being too cowardly to actually draw my own blood.
I guess I don’t want to be here anymore, but I don’t want to do anything too rash. I just don’t feel like anyone would care. I guess I already wrote that in the last entry.
I just don’t know what to do. I feel trapped here. My head ache is the least of my problems. But no one knows that there’s anything wrong with me. But I feel like the only thing I’m good for is getting in the way. I guess I’m good at screwing people over accidentally.
I’m about to cry. I guess this is why I shouldn’t write things like this.
Bye,
May
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Dear Diary (May's Diary)
Non-FictionA/N: This is my real diary entry, only with different names than reality. I'll try to update these every few days, even though it's not for you guys. It's more for my personal mental health. I swear, if I don't write them down, I might go insane...
