To be Better

"...I try to remind myself when I feel great and infinite, that there will be another terrible week coming someday, so I should store up as many great details as I can, to hold on to during those terrible moments..."

It seems that no matter how many great details I store up of every single moment that made me feel like it was the only thing to live for at that time, the dark places I use to call 'home' has a way of making me forget all of that in a second.

For the past three weeks I've gambled with a thousand reasons why the word has no longer a need for me. That it would be so much better to be on the opposite side of life watching as people pass by my open casket whispering things like "too soon. he died too soon". And each time those thoughts surface I try to forcefully pick myself up and search my memories for the moments when my heart smiled at the simplicity of beauty. I struggled to find any.

I thought about dying so much, and in so much detail that I wrote a letter to the people who love me. You can read it here. I'm not ashamed in the least for writing this and that, because it was the shame that pushed me there. The shame of what people would think of me when i confess that I want to die. its the shame that kept me from reaching out to the many close people I have in my life. its the shame that tells me right now I'm making the biggest mistake of my life writing this. but I don't care. I want to be better. i want to be free. i want people to know that beneath every person's smile and sigh there might be a bottomless pit of darkness, if only we were to notice it.

Some will read this and see a pitying cry for attention; some will read this and judge; some will feel sad for me, but I know there are those who will read this and see the bravery with which each line was written. Through whichever lens you may look at this, my only desire is to become better. To become the fun, laughing, loving-life person you once knew. I would give anything to be him again, but I can't sit and just wish him back; I need to reach out to you friend, family, stranger. And i'm doing so in the only way i can express and articulate properly, though writing.

Believe me, I have no intention to kill myself anymore, but i know also that I'm not healthy, and if I don't reach out for help I might visit the dark room more and more, and might not return from it.

I need help. I need a rescue, not in a spiritual way, but in a way that feels and is human. Somehow I feel I should have done this sooner but asking for help has no expiry date.

Pray for me. Talk to me.

I just want to be better.