Writer's Block 5

The same song plays over and over in my head, and the lyrics don't make sense, so naturally, they make sense to me. I knew I needed to go to the hospital, because I was suicidal and I thought of the train running me over every time I tried to sleep. I imagined watching it come closer and closer, feeling my lungs fill with air and exhaling shallowly. I thought I wouldn't be crying. I thought the train would hit me with such force that I wouldn't even feel a thing. 

I daydreamed suicide. I was lying in my bed every day, not doing a thing. I wasn't allowed to leave. Since I couldn't leave, I couldn't do drugs. But I could still hurt myself.

"I ended so dark, and facing that took me so long."

The best way I could describe how I felt was by pulling the comforter over my body and holding it just over my mouth and nose, so I couldn't breathe well. I was mute. I couldn't tell anyone what I was feeling, I didn't feel like it mattered and I felt uninvited. My dad was back in my home, just manifested as my younger brother, who was nearly twice the size of me. The screaming was back, the tiptoeing around the house was back, my heart was sinking again. I felt like a cigarette left outside in the rain, useless and soon to grow mold. Only I wasn't growing, I was shrinking. 

I had nothing to write, nothing to report or imagine. It was the quick paragraph that summed up my entire life. I had no way out and no idea how to free myself from this depression. I could only hope for the best.