Trapped in my own head

Note to readers

Hey there, so this is not a poem. It's more of a back story before I dive into the actual part.

So basically, I am a med student. And this is something that had happened quite recently, a few months back.
This is just a part of what happened. I have not entirely revealed the situations and circumstances that led me to getting into this stage.

I am not trying to glorify or romanticize mental health issues here. They are entirely true, and something that one out of every four people go through.
And, if any of you are going through a hard time, please reach out to someone. If you're unable to reach a mental health professional, it's okay, just talk to someone. And you can always call the suicide helpline numbers that you get on the internet. Trust me, they always answer, and they are really sweet too. If you request them for a 24/7 number, they'll be more than happy to help. And if you think that they're going to judge you, or if you think that your problems are too small, they aren't.They'll talk you out of your dark thoughts and help you through it.

I am quite a curious person when it comes to understanding human behaviour and stuff like that. I had this friend of mine who used to visit the psych department as a patient. He used to go in there for therapy. So I once asked him how it was like, and he asked me to wait till we had our clinical postings there. (This was a little before I hit rock bottom)

Also, I know some of you must be curious about what were the things that happened that got me into this situation. And also about what happened after I visited a doctor there. I'll be posting a separate novel about that part (not immediately, I'll need some time as I have my exams coming up. But I am working on it). Of course I wouldn't be revealing any true names or places.

I felt like crying every second, but tears wouldn't flow down my cheeks. I felt like ending things in a heartbeat.

All I had to do was either let the vehicle of my soul drop from the rooftop.
Or just pick out the scalpel from my human dissection kit and dissect myself, the way I wanted to.

I think this is what happens when you teach one who is suicidal about human anatomy and hand them the perfect tools.

What we're supposed to be doing is learn anatomy to save people, but here I was using it to find the perfect spot to end my life.

I'd thought about a few too, the wrist being the most easily accessible one.
So, one cut, and I would have damaged my radial artery, median nerve, and a couple of muscles. It could be quite fatal if done properly.
The next was the cervical plexus, one stab on the side of my neck, and I would have damaged a bunch of nerves.
The third option was the external carotid artery. A small damage to it, and there would be blood gaping out within no time.
So you see, I was fucked up.

And I request anyone who is going to take ideas from the above paragraph, please drop it. Just reach out to people. Please. I reached out, and I am in a slightly better place.

Now to the part about how I felt in the psych department.