The second time I overdosed, my body couldn’t handle it, and I threw it all up. I texted my dad saying, “I think I took a little too many pills”. And every time I’ve overdosed, I always downplay it. I’ve always tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. That having the urge to swallow a whole bottle of pills was something daily that normal people do. My dad hurried home and saw the empty bottle and he shook me to make sure I was awake. I kept mumbling “I threw it up.. I threw it up..” while I was drifting off to sleep. He had to wake me up every 15 minutes to make sure I was okay. Let me tell you now, it is a big deal. The third time I overdosed, I slept through first and second period and passed out in the counselor’s office. I didn’t want to go to the ER. I just wanted to go home. All I wanted to do was sleep. Again, I just said, “I think I took too many pills this morning.” The fifth time I overdosed, my dad found the empty pill box. I hallucinated, I had a fever. I couldn’t move my legs. All I could do was scream, “Don’t take me to the hospital this time. I don’t want to go!” I became friends with a girl who had overdosed she’s one of my best friends now and when I heard she was hospitalized as well, it just makes me realize how real this problem is. A couple months ago, another friend of mine overdosed. Do you realize how fucked up it is, that I’ve done it so many times that I know the exact procedure that she’s going to go through? She messaged me saying, “I took a bunch of pills, but I just realized I didn’t want to die. I don’t know what to do. Help.” And I’m screaming at her over the screen that she should throw it up and call 911 because sometimes when someone you love decides that they hate the world, that’s all you can do. You can’t teleport through the phone. You can’t travel through the internet. You can’t be there to hold them and take them to the hospital. Your love is not charcoal that can absorb all their poison in their life. I know, love that you would have done all you could. Sometimes words aren’t enough. Sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes a person needs to try dying to know that that’s not really what they want. There’s nothing you could have done. You’ve done all you could. Just keep loving them. But you see the thing is, I got lucky. I’ve made it back from 5 overdoses without a scratch on me. But that’s not always the case. My favorite teacher’s stepdaughter locked herself in her room and overdosed. To this day, her stepmother still has a scar on her heart. To this day, on the anniversary of her death, her stepmother still stays home from school on the anniversary of her death. Her sister is in a bad mental state, and so is her biological mother. Her family has fallen apart. You overdose because you think you will get a peaceful release from death. It’s not peaceful. It is not like falling asleep. It is convulsions, vomiting, muscle spasms, fevers, and sharp stomach pains. An overdose is not instant. Hollywood has you believing, that an overdose is how a lady should exit the world. As quiet as she came in, Peaceful and unnoticed. You will go out kicking and screaming and wishing you hadn’t taken them.
6:03 p.m. (I think I’m done overdosing)
This needs more notes.
(via face-your-destiny)
