Notes

Word Jumbles.

A chaotic mess of my scrambled thoughts on a page. (Suicide/pill tw)
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Word. Feelings and thoughts. So many questions, and I'n unable to decide if I want to know the answers. Or if I did, would I even be able to comprehend them, or would I be overwhelmed past a breaking point? I lost the right word for it. What I'm trying to say is, could I handle the truth? Am I stable enough to not collapse under the added burden?

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I don't know what I'm doing. I'm so lost and confused. I need to learn how to be better, how to be more. How to make sense of this world we live in. But what if I don't want to? What if I waste my time learning about life, while the real thing flies right past? And do I even care? From as long as I've lived, I've wanted to end my existence but knew it's impossible. But I see people in pain, and they need help. If I sit around and hope they find it, I'll be like the priest that walked past the man dying on the side of the road. I should help. But my mind is unraveling then tangling up again. I'm just tired. If it weren't for the threat of Hell I'd have taken more than 7 pills. Or was it 8? I don't remember. One... Two... Laugh, answer a text, three... Five? Take some more and laugh at how easy it is. Six? Seven? How many did I swallow? I should stop, but it was so fun, swallowing those little white drops of death, each one getting me a step closer to destruction. Maybe the queasiness in my stomach reminded me why I'm afraid to die, but for some reason I stopped and went to sleep. I wish it was easy. To just swallow a handful and drift into oblivion. But alas, there is no such thing. No oblivion, no easy way out.