You Will Not Die By Suicide

I rush to the bathroom, my brain in a fog, but only manage to make it to a fountain. The pills and bile burn as they defy gravity and erupt from my mouth. I attempt to step away from the fountain once I wash it all away, but my body needs to rest, planting my face against the cold, comforting cinder block wall. As my face cools, I become conscious of my heart racing and my stomach muscles spasming as they remain tight. I saunter towards my next class, slowly, legs trembling with each step. I run my finger along the wall as I walk, yearning to maintain connection with the cold, praying to keep the anxiety at bay as I fear being discovered.

You’ll be okay, it’s not your time. You will not die by suicide.

Tears begin to fall with the rain, leaving me completely blind and unable to operate my vehicle. I violently shove the shifter into park, the car door slamming as I tromp through the parking lot. I let my body simply fall, giving in to the desire to return to the earth. The grass is cold, the water pools around me, and for a moment I imagine myself in the ocean instead of the hard ground. The desire diminishes, the pain in my heart lessens, and for a moment my emotions seem normal instead of the typical storm inside.

You’ll be okay, it’s not your time. You will not die by suicide.

Blood rushes from my veins and down my arm, pooling on the desk below. I hear footsteps in the distance, a woman’s heels clicking on the tile, the sound becoming clearer by the second. As I watch the blood continue to flow, I wonder why there is no pain. My body is numb, but my eyesight is blurring, my head begins to pound. I place my face on the desk, my cheek making contact with the laminate. I hear a voice, but do not understand. I am lost inside myself, drowning in the endless void of my body, the rushing thoughts of my brain.

You’ll be okay, it’s not your time. You will not die by suicide.

I plant my body firmly on the floor, motionless, eyes pointed towards the ceiling. I focus on my breathing, the chill of the inhale then the warmth of the exhale, the rise and fall of my abdomen like waves softly caressing the sand on the shore. The room melts away as my appendages stroke the carpet, and I imagine myself in the snow of the Michigan winters of my childhood, a time when life was more carefree. My muscles relax, the urge fades with every breath, leaving me with a temporary calm before the emptiness returns.

You’ll be okay, it’s not your time. You will not die by suicide.

I recall the feelings of a few days before, searching inside my heart for the words to explain. My hands are shaking, my voice seems weak. I grip a pillow, holding on for dear life, my knuckles turning white from the tension. I hear her sigh, then our eyes meet, the signs of holding back tears on both sides. It’s like she’s diving into my soul, connecting with all that I feel. My heart stops thumping in my ears, my breathing relaxes as she begins to speak…

“You’ll be okay, it’s not your time. You will not die by suicide.”

 

Photo by Dmitry Ratushny on Unsplash

Megan Glosson is an avid writer who is currently published on The Mighty, Thought Catalog, Unwritten, YourTango, Project Wednesday, and MSN. She is an advocate for mental health and often uses her writing to highlight mental illness, especially borderline personality disorder. Megan is a graduate of Middle Tennessee State University (2010) and is in the process of beginning a master’s degree in Mental Health Counseling. Megan resides in Murfreesboro, Tennessee with her husband, two delightful daughters, and three hilarious cats. When not writing, Megan enjoys board games, adventures to lands near and far, and a good bowl of ice cream.

Megan Glosson

Megan Glosson is an avid writer who is currently published on The Mighty, Thought Catalog, Unwritten, YourTango, Project Wednesday, and MSN. She is an advocate for mental health and often uses her writing to highlight mental illness, especially borderline personality disorder. Megan is a graduate of Middle Tennessee State University (2010) and is in the process of beginning a master's degree in Mental Health Counseling. Megan resides in Murfreesboro, Tennessee with her husband, two delightful daughters, and three hilarious cats. When not writing, Megan enjoys board games, adventures to lands near and far, and a good bowl of ice cream.

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