by Gen Winters
TW: SUICIDE, SELF-HARM
I lie down. Trying to sleep, trying to calm down my ever swirling, fast-minded thoughts. Four… five… six hours pass my life away. I go downstairs to grab something to drink my pills with in order to soothe my broken, bleeding, throbbing brain. I eventually pass out.
Everyday is a constant struggle to keep on persevering. At least, that seems to be the conclusion I came to in October. I downed a whole pill bottle and chased it with a bottle and a half of Vodka. I then tried cutting my wrists pretty badly; but then by the time the pill/vodka combination hit me, I pretty much just fell into a deep sleep on my friend’s couch. She could not wake me. I remember her telling me that she was worried I wasn’t breathing so she had to check for a pulse (which there was one). She even tried opening my eyelids to get me to wake up, but I was still completely out of it.
When I finally woke up on my own and started coming to my senses, I could barely walk without stumbling around. My friend drove me to the hospital since my behaviour wasn’t seeming to improve for the better.
Today’s sunshine and rainbows and glitter leaking out of my eyes and pores, and tomorrow… is pure emptiness,pain and torment.
Bipolar Voices 