​​The suicide thoughts followed. I'd been doing the pills thing for a while. I'm probably messed up inside from taking more than the suggested dose. One day I woke up just wanting to die. I remember my eyes red and swollen from all the crying. I'd found these expired small gel capsules. I took the whole bottle. Shortly after, a tingle rushed from my feet up to my throat. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. I was going to die. Suddenly, it was all too real. I didn't want to die. I wasn't ready. I couldn't leave my family. What if there was something better? How would I ever find out if I died at that moment in time? I had to stop this. I ran to the bathroom and forced out as much as I could. I vomited. I could breathe a little. I called a friend I'd met in college. She rushed me to the emergency room. By the time we got there, I was feeling a lot better. So good that as the nurse was distracted recording my info, I fled. In my mind, they would never know what brought me to that hospital. Even better, my parents would never find out. How ignorant of me.

Days later, there was a bill on the table, already opened. “What’s this?” mom asked. I pretended I had no idea. She knew. Both my parents knew I attempted suicide. Mom eventually took me to see a therapist. The therapist asked if I'd ever tried killing myself. I told him, “If I say yes, you're gonna lock me up.” He nodded, “I can't tell you that.” So, I lied. I told him no. Then, we went for a walk around the mental hospital. As we toured the facility, I saw people in hospital gowns and a part of me felt like I belonged there, but I wasn't willing to find out. 

I never tried to kill myself again. The thought faded for a while, but then I got hurt. People, bad decisions, terrible friendships. They were constant contributors to my redeveloping suicidal thoughts. This time, they were more concrete. It was scarier because I didn't fear it as I did before. I was amused by it. I was just afraid of the act itself. How would I do it? I tried the pills. It was painful. Not as easy as I thought it would be. Jumping off a bridge or a building didn't guarantee death, nor did a gun. That for me was never an option, though. I didn't like guns. I find them to be cowardice. The only option left was hanging myself. It didn't seem so difficult. Everyone was doing it. Celebrity police reports were descriptive of every detail. Even the feces. That's right… poop. People shit themselves in their last breath. I don't know if it's from fear or just the pressure in the body. I haven't bothered to look it up. Here's my theory. You know when you have to go to the bathroom and when you finally do, you feel free? It feels like a weight has been lifted, literally. That’s relief, the not having to worry about life and all its excruciating occurrences. If my theory is correct, that relief only works for the person committing suicide. But again that feeling. The one I had when I was younger. What if things get better? How will I ever know? I won't. I never would because I'd be robbing myself of finding out. I'd be robbing myself of a future. Or maybe even getting hit by a tree or struck by lightning. Wouldn't that be ironic? I sure as heck wouldn't wanna miss that laugh. 

I choose to live. Besides, things do get interesting. You’ll see.

​Story Created and Written by Jessica G. Ferrer

I see the way you look at me
Judging my anxiety
I’ll look down to catch my breath
I look up and you away
Lock myself behind closed doors
but it’s hard… even then
 
You think I can control it
And yes, some days I do
Sometimes I struggle just to see the day through
 
Calling out for help?
I don’t think I can
I fear no one will ever understand
 
“How are you? How’s it going?”
Do you really care?
 
With this ongoing rapid life
I feel anguish, despair

​​I thought about ending it
Analyzed every situation
After careful contemplation
I can’t let you win”

Ending one’s life, isn't that a sin?

Now I go therapy
Pay someone to listen
Pop a pill if I must
Natural ones, the chemicals I don’t trust
 
This obscure path I keep walking on
The thoughts, they’re heavy
I run, but they’re still with me
I keep fighting it
Eventually they fade
They come back
Old and new, it’s like that one thing from the past
You choose to move forward, something happens
For a moment, you’re forced to look back
 
Hold on
This is only temporary
It will pass
 
Breathe, breathe
Choose to stay
One more day, stay
One more day, stay
 
Stay.