last night i called the number for the first time.
last night i typed and deleted and retyped the numbers again and again. it scared me that i wanted to call, that there was no one else to call. it scared me to feel so alone, on the verge of falling somewhere that i could never climb up out of.
i knew i would have to be put on hold. so i just kept waiting for a while, listening to the tuneless late-night-tv-ad music in the background and the automated message that thanked me and told me a counselor would be on the line with me shortly. and i only waited for a few minutes, but i still got so tired of feeling so cramped, so twisted. kneeling on the bench, waiting for someone else to pick up so i could tell them about emotions that i still can’t learn how to handle on my own. so i hung up, and then walked back.
last night i cried again. last night there was so much pain.
last night i was in so much pain.
last night i kept hurting and hurting and hurting. and i don’t know if maybe i was the one hurting myself, if maybe the pain was just me, refusing to let go of the knife, of the old wounds. if maybe i was just peeling at the old scabs so they couldn’t heal the injuries underneath.
last night everything hurt.
last night everything hurt, not for the first time, and not for the last. face all squeezed up, hands useless, hands tight and shaking, whole body stiff, tears streaming.
i want to dig myself free of the layers and layers of pain that seem to be sleeping in me. last night the idea of it being national siblings day set it all off, and suddenly everything, everything became unbearable.
last night i called the number for the first time, but i hung up before anyone could answer.
i don’t want to give up on myself like that again.
i want to keep hanging on to that line– that line between me and the other me, the faceless sad me, that i keep falling into.
i’ll have another counseling appointment in may. it was one of the earliest appointments i could book with our school’s counseling services. i went once last semester, then never went back, because of a twisted mixture of pride and fear and sadness and other things.
i need to keep hanging tight to that line.
last night i just wanted to ask someone, anyone: what if i never get better? what if this pain lasts forever? what if i really am just a terrible person and all of my problems were just made up to manipulate people? what if what if what if. i don’t think anyone can really understand. i think i scare my normal friends when i speak about it. i can’t tell my parents about it because they have never understood. the last person i thought of last night was my high school physics teacher, but i didn’t have her number, it was eleven pm and i was sitting out on a bench in the dark, and i also didn’t want to trouble her when she’s a busy, functioning real-life adult in a completely different state. so i called the line. 1-800-SUICIDE.
i hope i didn’t waste anyone’s resources by being put on hold and then just hanging up.
such a sad update on my life, isn’t it, after all this time. to start off by saying i’m having fun in college, then updating by saying i’ve been in emotional pain for a long time. for the longest time i thought i was getting better.
i guess i’ve just been toeing that line between me and the faceless me too closely to notice.