I'm the one who decides when to write and what about.
It's up to you to read it. Or not.
A week ago I wasn't feeling too well. I was numb, cold, indifferent. I didn't understand why. It was painful to be alone. I went to the local pub and had a beer. I just wanted to have people around me and try to feel something, anything.
I wanted to feel alive.
What happened later on that evening was scary.
The state I was in, combined with alcohol, made me want to end everything. End the endless suffering that was my empty, meaningless life. Me, alone, lonely, back home in the apartment. All alone with the pills at hand.
It could have been a disaster. It sure was dramatic. But not for me, I don't remember a thing. Not the police who came to my home, the ambulance or the treatment in the emergency room. Not until hours later, when I woke up and realised I was in hospital.
In my fuzzy state, I'd managed to write a certain status update on Facebook. That's how the police got notified. I owe thanks to all of them who reacted to that status update.
I didn't want to die. Not really.
All I wanted that awful day, was to feel alive.
I'm deeply thankful that I am today.