I Want to Die but my Hair Looks Good

Five fourty-five p.m. My left hand is shaking as I eat a bagel and type this with my right. (A side effect from the Topomax I was put on in the psych. hospital last November.) I'm very hungry all of the sudden. I went and dropped off my son at a friend's house. My thoughts are not good. I want to drive into traffic. At a light, I begin to inch in, closer, closer... I stop. At home, I had gotten into my pills. So many pills! Why do I take all these pills anyway? If I'm going to take them all, why not take them all?! My hand picks up the Ativan, and some Trazodone. "Hmm...." I think. "I have these for later." Seeing, my daughter, whose birthday is in a week, I think, "This will be the last birthday I will celebrate with her, and maybe I'll miss it." Am I getting manic? I felt like I was okay when I posted earlier, but maybe not. Maybe people are stressing me out. I see myself stabbing myself to death. Yes, intrusive thoughts. The light, the light! The sunlight is that Fall lighting that seeps into my brain and makes it bad. In fact, it was this week last year that my manic episode started. I want to die but my hair looks good. So I can't, right? Hahahaha... Well, that bagel went down nicely. So did the berry smoothie. Why should it matter? Why? Its just intrusive thoughts again. Cutting myself. Climbing over balconies. Stabbing myself. Shooting myself. Will the voices come? If they would, I would be entertained. Driving, I was thinking the usual driving rules and then thoughts about how many pills to take. What time? Its Friday night and a bad night to go to psych. ER. So don't. Don't even call. Just take the pills. Take them. Go on. You're such a chicken. That light outside. It calls to me. Calling my name. And ironic because it will eventually go dark.