I’m still not eating, not sleeping, crying, and vomiting. I’m under tremendous amount of stress. My chest hasn’t stopped hurting in a week.
Since I’m not sleeping, I fantasized about my death, how I would carry it out, what I would do, etc. I imagined the coroners arriving and the detectives taking pictures. I watched them move my body and place it on the gurney. It was oddly comforting. Almost as if I have a backup plan. Kinda like Robin Williams, right?
I’m wondering now if the last time we talk will be the last time. Maybe then you’ll be happy…
I offered to call you several times but you were busy. I even offered on your way home from work but you declined. I wanted to let you know how bad it really is. I’m sure you already know because you know me so well. But I’m scared and I don’t know if I’ll be here tomorrow. And even now, you’re busy so I can’t reach out. It’s almost as if the universe doesn’t want me to even try.
To be quite honest, I don’t want to live. I feel like an inconvenience to you and in your life. You seem happy to move on without me. God, how I wish I could be supportive. I’m trying. Believe me, I’m fucking trying.
I took my medication only because I promised you. I wanted to down the bottle and wash it all with Diet Coke. That’s not my backup plan, but hey, it would work.
My friends keep telling me to hold on, believe the best, and it’ll get better. How can I when this feels like the end? I want us to start over, wipe the slate clean, and move forward together. Can we please just forget this week ever happened? And go back to when we were happy?
I just don’t know how to fix it. Just tell me. Please. I’m drowning in heartache and sorrow.