Mid-August

We were in bed Mid August.
I was triple digit sober.
They said it would subside.
First the physical withdrawals but I wouldn't know much about that.
The first two weeks of being comatose helped get past the rough of it.
and then the month of observation afterwards.
 
They warned me of the psychological consequences.
Depression, Anxiety, Irritable, Lack of Focus, DID, Dysphoria, blah blah etc.
Saying all these things as if they hadn't already been there in the first place.
I guess they didn't know that I had just given up on trying to hide all of it.
I guess the bottle really does take away ones ambition...
 
Mid August.
She asked
"So you really wanted to kill yourself?"
I was laying on my back with her arm across my chest.  
She was reaching for her cigarettes.
I couldn't see her face but I heard the sadness in the question.
I asked her if she wouldn't. She stopped and grabbed the Bible underneath it.
'I swear, if you quote something from Isaiah...'
She twisted her head surprised
"You've read the Bible?"
I shrugged and didn't answer.
"Whatever, answer my question."
and I did.
 
'I don't know if that's the right word but I tried. Yes.'
"How many times?"
'The want to or the act of?'
"What's the difference?"
I sighed.
'I guess...the want is always looming...I guess I only acted on it as an adult four times.  
When I was younger though...I lost count... 'little accidents' is what I called them...
It's funny what people will believe if you smile hard enough...
I imagine they thought it was just a phase...'
I kept staring at the ceiling
 
"Is that why you always leave?"
'It was easier that way...I used the time to help me think.'
"The first time it was for months...The last time it was years though..."
'I didn't say it was right.'
She shuffled her feet under the sheets.
She was nervous.
 
"What about now?"
'Hm?'
"Right now. Right now at this moment. Do you still want to kill yourself?"
'I've never been asked that before...'
"No one has ever asked that? HOW? HOW would NO ONE ask when you're so fucking open and fucking nonchalant about it!"
 
I don't remember her ever swearing before...
'Does it matter? No one believed me. Even when I finally opened up about it.'
"You probably made a fucking joke out of it."
 
I tried to remember.
and I didn't remember it that way. I remembered begging and crying...asking for help...anything...
I remember saying 'how do you not fucking believe me at this point?!' over and over again to these people until they finally left...
"How do they not fucking believe me..." I would repeat to myself.
"What's WRONG with me..."
"How do they not fucking believe me..."
 
Mid August.
Silence hit the room.
The ceiling was staring at me.
'Maybe....I...'
She sat up and looked at me.
"Maybe what?"
'Maybe it's changed. Maybe it's not so much about killing yourself...maybe it's not about wanting to die....maybe....I just don't want to be alive anymore.'
"Jesus. You somehow just made it sound worse."
 
She could tell I was getting tired and laid back down.
"I only have one more question...you probably already know what it is..."
'Yes.'
"Was the hospital part of your plan?"
 
I started to tear up for some reason.
Why?  
We were just using each other anyways.
Why was I telling her these things.
When did I tell her these things.
What was happening to me.
 
'Yes...It was my back up...my 'just in case''
"In case of what?"
'If I failed again the next try...'
"...next...try?"
'Plans were made but I hadn't ac----'
She raised her voice "BUT! WHAT IF YOU HAD CHANGED YOUR MIND?!"
'The choice would finally be out of my hands...my failures...'
"But...you woke up..."
'I did...'
'...'
'...'
"You said 'was'...as in. Past tense?"
'Like I was saying...I had plans and didn't act on them...
But I changed my mind to late...'
'...'
'....as sloppy as of a back up plan it was...It tried it's hardest.'
"Are you trying to be fucking funny right now?"
'No...But would you have been happier if I had said yes? Would you have believed me? Would you rather have not known?'
"...
That doesn't make me feel better at all..."
'Me either...'
'...'
'...'
 
"You're going to leave again....aren't you..."
'Yes.'
"Will you let me know this time?"
'You'd trust me with that?'
"Do I have a choice?"
 
She rolled over onto her side. Facing away from me.
I thought to myself
'You should of just let her smoke...ugh, and what was with the Bible? How did you even know that? It's almost 11....just sleep a little bit longer...just...a little bit...longer...'
I muttered out.
'I promise...'
 
10:10 A.M.
Mid August.