Perhaps My Final Days

Friday morning rolls around, i awake on the couch to Juan telling me to move to Analyn's bed so they don't bother me, now that they're up and awake. So I go.

Friday... Generally uneventful? I think not. I didn't get a call from Active Life telling me one way or another... instead i'm sitting waiting all day.
at 1300 I go take a test at Carrington college and score a 78.93%. Not good enough for my standards. I go home and get bitched at by Sheila (dads girlfriend of 14 years).

So I take a drive... to walgreens. Buy a ten-pack of straight-edge razorblades... and head up to the mountains. I call David but he doesn't answer. My mind is a panic.. my heart is racing, my face is soaked with tears because somehow i'm just not good enough for anything. I look down at odometer and see the picture of my and my kids. And I cry a littler harder. At the bottom of the mountain there is no where to park. Razors in my hand... ready to go I wirte a text to everyone in the immediate family. "I love you, Sorry for the mess."
Ian (only blood brother) replys: "what are you talking about?" "My life" I tell him. and I get no response. Elisen and dorothy respond "I love you too."

Juan sends me a text, "ur still there?" "no, on my way back now" I tell him. He asks me "what took so long?" and i tell him i made a few detours.

i set the razors aside and go back to his house.

I'm not feeling well. physically drained, emotionally wraught.... 2300ish i go out to my car, tears in my eyes and cut myself three times. Small cuts that hardly bleed. "I'm a wimp, i think"

I cut myself again. a deep slash this time. near the blood vessel. I cry.. i bleed. i go ask juan if i can go for a drive, not telling him my intention is to take myself to the ER. He tells me i can't go. So i cry some more.... cover the wound with gauze and go inside... feeling sick.
I vomit violently for three hours... then begin to feel better and i go to bed.




This is not sunday morning. I hate my life. I hate everything about me.
Dorothy asked me to take her to the hospital. So I do. Jeremy comes, and Linda (friend from church) takes the kids for a walk. We wait to be seen. A young child is there for no obvious reason. about three years old... noisey and mannerless.
Triage calls dorothy back. moments later she texts me saying she'd rather have jeremy go sit with her. ((i guess i was just a driver... use me... sure)) I tell her i don't care either way and i leave.
Prognosis is an ovarian cyst. She should've gotten checked out much sooner.
I went and got my kids.



Sitting in this home... home? really. NO. Not a home. its a house. a place with light and shelter... a place of anguish and stress... so why am i sittin here?

I'm in seirous consideration of leaving when everyone is sleeping... back up to the mountain and slicing my wrist at sunrise. Would anyone care? Just my kids. My sole reason for living. My only reason for being anywhere today... but woudln't they be better off w/out me?

I'm sorry for the mess i left. I'm sorry for the pain.