Another night...
I saunter off to the bathroom to get my nightly routine over with. I'd gotten to dad's house about an hour or so before, thinking I'd finish unpacking all my duplicate bathroom things later. I brought the bag of things upstairs with me and plopped them down on the counter before I flick the light and close the door. In this new house, the fan always turns on whenever you turn the bathroom light on. Kinda pisses me off.
As I was taking everything out of the bag, I noticed my pills were in the bag. Huh. I guess mom wants me to have these here, and she'll get another bottle for her house. I put the small orange bottle down on the counter. My gaze keeps falling back onto it, though. I'm not really sure why. How many pills are in the bottle? Picking it up, I check the bottom and count thirteen. Thirteen small, greenish pills. I put it down again and brush my teeth. I keep looking at my perscription bottle as I wash my face and clean my new ear piercings. I start to reach for it again, but I pull my arm back. No. Why do I want to keep looking at the pills? Oh well, it couldn't hurt. Just looking at them. I take the bottle and open it, dumping all thirteen of the pills into my hand. They're so tiny... Twenty five milligrams each... That's three hundred and twenty five milligrams total... My daily dose was one pill every morning. It's midnight now. I have the whole bottle emptied into my hand. What would swallowing them be like? I'm not huge for swallowing anything whole, but these are just positively small. Hmm...
What the heck am I doing? I'm not supposed to or going to take the whole freaking bottle of medication. I don't have a death wish. That was last year. I'm better now. And aren't antidepressants supposed to make you happy? That's exactly how I have been since I started taking them, too, much happier. I carefully place the meds back into the bottle and shut the lid tightly. For some reason, the odd urge to sit in my shower poseses me. Well, better than taking all my pills. I go and sit in the shower. Laying back and closing my eyes, I reach for my iTouch in my pocket. I open my eyes and google search overdoses for the meds I'm on. It says less than one percent of people who overdose on these ones die... Damn it.
Wait- what? Ugh. I'm so confused. I stand up and move back over to the counter and pick up the bottle. It makes a funny noise when I shake it. I open the bottle again and pour all the pills into the cap, and arrange them into a perfect circle. It exactly fills the outer edge of the cap, except for this one pill... It's bothering me. A lot. I don't like OCD. Why does everything have to be even? Thirteen is an odd number. Maybe if I just took one pill... Or three... Or five... Seven... Nine... Eleven... All thirteen... What would happen if I did that? I'm on a really low dose now, I'm a very small person, and I'm only fifteen years old. I think three hunderd and twenty five milligrams could kill me. What's dying like? I dump them all back into my hand, and raise my hand to my face. Then I look with disgust into my hand. I mutter to myself about being stupid. I should probably tell Morgan, though. I did want to cut myself earlier, after all. I just HAD to leave my stupid house keys at mom's, though. They're nice and sharp. So first I wanted another scar on my wrist, then I think about overdosing? What the hell is wrong with me?
I pull out my phone and text her about it. Talk to God is her answer, as it is for everything. Even He has left me. I'm totally alone with this bottle of medication that could easily kill me and these two thoughts eating their way through my brain. What's overdosing like? I wanna try it. And, what would Matt do if he found out I killed myself...? We're supposed to hang out tomorrow... He'd probably... No. I can't think about that. I don't even know if I'm right, I sure wasn't with Trevor. He was lying in the first place. A few tears was all I got out of him. This is all beside the point though, I've still got these pills right here and my head is starting to hurt and I want to wake my dad up. But should I? What could he do if I woke him up telling him I had this crazy urge to take all the antidepressants in my bottle all at once? He'd probably just hit me.
Taking one last good, long look at the pills, I put them back in the bottle again, plop it down on the countner, and go to my room. I feel like crap. Why was I having suicidal thoughts? Confusion surrounds me. I hate it. I curl up on my bed after I turn the light off, and lay there for a while. Thoughts of Matt keep flooding my head. I think of how sorry I am for almost doing that... It must've just been some rediculous side effect of the meds. Morgan had confirmed that earlier, anyways. I'm not really sure what Matt would've done if I'd have killed myself. I fall asleep thinking about him, and dream about him just like he said I wouldn't. I sure proved him wrong.
*Author's note*
This all actually happened to me last night... Heh. I'm still not totally sure what happened. Morgan told me suicidal thoughts can be a side effect of antidepressants, so that's what I'm gonna go with. It was pretty scary. I haven't had thoughts like that for a long time, and I've never come that close to that before. I told Matt about it when we hung out today, and he was kind of shocked. He said he was really glad I didn't do it, but the look on his face was just total disbelief. Even he knows that I'm better than I was before. And yes, I still have that bottle sitting right on my counter where I left it last night.
