I can not remember why, but I was close to ending myself. Last Spring, I had a night where i could not take it anymore. My other half was accross the country, my friends were not my friends, and I was sad because a sociopath could not love me. I missed my laughter, I missed life, so I called an angel up, and she drove me back home.
We filled ourselves with substances, and looked at each other with dead eyes, because we knew it was not right. We both had things we should not have had, but at least we had each other.
Some nights, I would cry. Some nights, she would cry too. We could not let go of what was bad at the time, but at least we held on to each other.
I fucked up, and stayed too close to the person who could not love me. I moved back to what I hated, and somehow thought it was for love.
For months, I was trapped inside of a dark room, locked inside as he stole my light-but I found the key.
After my escape, I lived on- but the darkness stayed. I kept pushing, pushing, and pushing it back, but it wanted me to break. I expected the darkness to stay inside of the room when I left, but I carried it with me. Wave after wave of depression kept knocking me down, and I swear to everything-I was about to let myself drown.
I stopped talking to people I loved, and i vowed to never trust the world. I did not believe in my progress, nor significance.
A stranger grabbed my hand, pulled me out of the water, and coached me to believe.
Things got brighter, but only sometimes. Still, that is better than never.
Not long ago, there were times of me reaching for the end of myself, but something inside of me knew better. The part of me that was no longer shackled, reminded me that it is not my time to die.
Now, I am taking an emotional step I convinced myself was impossible. I know that everythjng-everything is going to change. It is out of my control, but I think that it is the light getting stronger, and I am readying myself to accept it.