Breaking the Cycle

Its been a month since being off all of my medication.

Quickly remembering how low I could actually feel.

I have always hurt the people I care about.

That always contributes my lack of support or any kind of social life.

No one deserved any of this.

I hate myself.

Memories of shame are constantly on my mind.

Some of the shame is my fault, some not.

But it all hurts the same.

The only possible future that I would want to have cannot happen or I would hurt her too.

My eyes well up with tears, just thinking of how I can not change.

Grabbing my favorite steak knife off the kitchen counter.

I walk over to the table and sit down.

Desperate for any kind of relief, I take three deep gashes into my left forearm.

Slowly I stand and walk out the back door.

My arm covered in blood, dripping on the tiles as I walk.

I stop in front of the pool, and turn around so my back is toward the water.

I pause a moment, hoping prayers can be answered, and prayed for grace on my dirty soul.

Aware that I dont deserve any amount of forgiveness.

I then fall straight back into the pool.

As soon as my back hits the water, my arm burns from the chlorine.

I find myself thrashing about trying to stay above the water.

I realized it was just an instinct, which I started to ignore.

Taking my final gasp of air before dropping all the way down to the bottom.

My eyes wide open, seeing the peaceful, and lazy streaks of blood in the currents around me.

I exhale completely, beginning to inhale.

As my lungs begin to fill with water, I forget the pain on my arm.

There is a great and heavy feeling in my chest.
The pain is enormous, and I start to convulse on the pool floor.

Finally my sight grows dim, as I grow eager for my death.

My last thought was me realizing that the only respectable act I have ever done in this diseased life, was now happening.

breaking the cycle.