Liberosis

Isolation

Who knew I'd be so lonely in life. In past and present. What we do during those lonely hours only we as humans know. Yet they still haunt me to this day. What we don't we wish we did. What we do wish we didn't.

I wonder where to start. I wonder where to end. I wonder when it's going to end. I think that's the scariest part.

Realizing it doesn't end. Maybe it does I just haven't reached that point yet. Now, what am I doing? I'm walking back to the house that hurt me.

I'm walking back to my destruction. I'm walking back to my downfall. Not literally but figuratively.

'Remember when you thought you hit your lowest?'

Well, subconscious I've had many different low points.

That time I drank a quarter of a bottle of alcohol wanting to down a bottle of I don't know Tylenol?

Or that time it was raining and I wanted to kill myself so I basically knelt in the middle of the street crying asking the world why they did this to me? Begging the world to take me from this horrible planet.

Or what about that time I broke down reading the Kite Runner? Why did I break down? The unknown similarities between our stories.

There was also that time I cut myself for a couple days or weeks trying to relate to people who did. I lasted for a couple of days or weeks I couldn't keep up. Days and weeks were just a concept of time. I wasn't keeping up with time now. It hurt too much. It made me feel worse.

What about the time— what about the time—

What about today.

I refuse to walk back to the house that ruined my life. Ruined my childhood. Ruined my teenage life. I'm not walking back after nearly trying to jump off a bridge unsuccessfully.

'Where are you going to go?'

Nowhere.

I didn't have any safe spaces. Even though the school psychologist wanted to try and convince me it was. It wasn't. It wasn't a safe space. If I want to kill myself I should be able to say that without getting locked up. Without getting reported. Because why ask, "Are you feeling any thoughts or harm of suicide?"

It's a double-edged sword. I tell the truth I'm crazy. I lie I feel crazy. There's no winning when trying to get help sometimes.

Sometimes I just want to hear some support.

"Why do you want to kill yourself?"

Why can't someone ask me that instead of it turning into a whole investigation? I've had investigations especially with my father and DCCP or whatever they call it. With my mother. With crisis on myself.
Nope, it's always a hint of criticism.

"Is it true you drank alcohol and wanted to overdose on Advil?"

"Is it true you had the intent on killing your self?"

Look where I am. It didn't work. I remember laughing in the hospital like yes I remember. I will always remember. It was an after school program I was forced to go to.

It was an outpatient program I was forced to go to*

If I didn't I'd have to get put in an inpatient program. Maybe if I was inpatient my life wouldn't have been so drastically changed. That was a low point subconscious you got what you wanted.

Me to remember the lowest point in my life.

'Well, that wasn't it.'