I've Changed

58. it all makes sense

TW: SELF HARM/SUICIDE

(WARNING TO ALL READERS THAT THERE IS MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!! CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK!!)

Today is a bad day

Despite the fact that I just returned to the penthouse this morning from the hospital, it does not feel like home. I've been up since 6 a.m., unable to enter my bathroom because I'm afraid of what could happen.

I like to think I'm doing well, better than I expected, but that doesn't mean I'm fine. During my time in the hospital, I've had many mental breakdowns and attempted suicide, and it irritated me when the nurses and, particularly, Jae, would intervene. It disturbs me even more because, despite my best efforts to be released and leave the poisonous hospital behind, I am still confined to weekly therapies that do little to help me.

I'm sitting on my bed, fidgeting with my leg while playing with my wrists and feeling the fading scars from a few days earlier. I used to wear hair ties and bracelets, but I had to stop because I would "self-harm" by slapping the hair tie against my wrist. It was initially calming, a way to fidget and divert my attention away from my feelings, but I realized I was using it to injure myself, so I removed them.

I've been in excruciating pain for the past few weeks, nearly a month, since I was admitted to the hospital. I'm not happy at all that even Jae hasn't been able to rekindle that passion and motivation. It was comforting to know he was still by my side, trying to comfort and support me in overcoming my struggles, but I couldn't stand being anywhere.

My own bed. How many times I've slept with so much anger and hate on this bed, which used to be my comfort, it feels like it's piercing holes through my skin. Besides that, this was the room in which I was most vulnerable, and my friends witnessed me almost...dead. This is no longer my home, but a fucking asylum where I'm forced to stay calm and express my feelings.

Since that's all I've done since I've moved in here, it feels suffocating and difficult to breathe. Since I always start the day hating myself and end the night wanting to kill myself, this bed, which I've been in for more than three years, has been continuously filling up with grief and regret.

My legs bouncing up and down as I hold my hands to the side of my body, I bite my lower lip. Don't break it; I'm doing fine. I look around the room, each spot bringing back memories and pictures, prompting me to get out of bed and walk to the corner. I recall crying in my own arms when Jae and my friends left after finding me attempting to kill myself on one side of the room. The large windows remind me of times when I wanted to leap out of them, only to die when I hit the concrete. My bed, where I've inflicted the most of my sorrow and tears on myself. Poor bedsheets. They don't deserve my suffering, and neither does anyone else, but I'm sure the universe chose to give me the worst life possible because no one else can take it.

The door, the numerous times people walked in and out of it, mostly to see if I was okay, if I wasn't dead. My door, too, has suffered the repercussions of my actions, having heard the many cries and concerns of my friends. Every step I take on the floor reminds me of the days when I used to walk around my room to alleviate my fear and anxiety. My floors, on the other hand, were impacted by my pain, with the main tears spilt on them, the yells I'd scream through them, the impacts of my fists pounding against them to find a way out, and the heavy thuds of my body falling on it after late nights out drinking and getting wasted. The thought makes me shudder. Don't mix drugs and alcohol; it's a terrible combination.

That's why I have to go.

"No," I say with a shake of my head, my breath quickening as I get the familiar urge to run to the bathroom. All is in place, and all I need to end my life is a few simple steps away. "Ellie, you're doing great. Don't break your progress," I try to convince myself this by recalling all of my positive experiences and good memories, but it doesn't help when I'm surrounded by the negative ones. I take a deep breath, attempting to slow my breathing by closing my eyes and listening to my heart beat and surroundings, but my eyes open as nightmares of my suffering come back into my mind.