167 days and counting… again

167 days and counting… again

I’ve been reading some old emails to my counselor in graduate school.  It’s a wonder she put up with me.  As much as I felt like she cared at the time, it is easy for me to forget and dismiss the concern.  Maybe she was just telling me that so she wouldn’t have to tell me otherwise.  It’s easier to lie and tell someone you care than it is to tell the truth and tell someone that you hate being around them.  Or maybe that is my own insecurities talking.  I’m not thinking so though.

Even now, I have to gauge how much I write and to whom because I’m afraid that I am too overwhelming.  People don’t get the pain; people don’t get the feelings of everything, people don’t get the intensity .  Hell, I’m not even sure that I do.  All I know is most people would think I was crazy if they knew the real me. 

I still want to die.  I’ve set a date again.  My birthday this year.  As long as I’m not pregnant, I’m going through with it.  E will be taken care of with life insurance money.  Samantha won’t remember me.  E will get on with my sister.  No one will miss me.  No one will care.  Well, besides being happy that I’m no longer around.  I’m ok with this.  In fact, I’m starting to wonder if it is going to be too long to wait?  I don’t want to go through life right now. 

I want to cut.  I want to feel pain again; I think I deserve it.  E would be upset because of it.  My pain doesn’t matter; it’s my fault anyways, right?  

It’s been a long time since I have felt this way, since I was scared and ok with the future of death.  I’m scared.  I have always wanted someone there with me when I go through it so I’m not alone.  However, I know I can’t have that. I couldn’t do that to someone else; put them in danger of being in trouble for not doing anything about it.  I guess I will just have to get through it alone.  Another four months.  167 days until peace.  And if I’m pregnant, I will definitely go through with it after having the baby  I know now that whatever reprieve I have will be short lived and come back with a vengeance afterwards.

I’m tired of crying alone.  I’m tired of the feelings.  I’m tired of living with the pain.  I don’t know where to turn to.  I promised my counselor in grad school I would exhaust all choices before going through with it.  And I feel like I’ve done that.  As childish as it sounds, I really need someone to hold me right now.  

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