Maybe it Will End

I'm Getting Better

I wrote this for my creative writing class and I'm supposed to read it out loud but I'm not sure I'll be able to
***
The first time I tried to kill myself,
I wasn't even tall enough to reach the pills.
I grabbed the kitchen chair,
and dragged it to my death,
and my sister yelled at me for making too much noise.

The first time I tried to kill myself,
my heart pounded against my chest,
so hard,
that I was worried someone would hear me.

The first time I tried to kill myself,
I couldn't get the bottle open.
I struggled so hard against the seal,
blisters opened on my fingers.
I got so frustrated,
that I threw it back into the cabinet,
and settled for the blood dripping off my fingertips.

The last time I tried to kill myself,
I didn't need the kitchen chair.
I grabbed the bottle,
and ran up the stairs,
ignoring my little brother excitedly talking about Steven Universe,
because I knew I'd never see another episode with him.

The last time I tried to kill myself,
I poured the pills into my hand,
testing how they'd feel on my tongue.
I laid them on my bed.

The last time I tried to kill myself,
there were 37 pills,
6 times I walked between my room and my bathroom,
5 ripped up notes,
4 changes of clothing,
3 missed calls,
2 times my dad thanked me for cleaning the kitchen,
and 1 clean floor I did not know I had.

The last time I tried to kill myself,
I spent 4 hours on the phone,
and by the time I had hung up,
the pills were in the cabinet,
another note was ripped up,
and I knew I had a problem.

The first time I asked for help,
I sat next to my mom for an hour,
staring at her computer.
My whole body shook so violently,
that I had to hold onto my chair,
and I couldn't seem to get anything out.

The first time I asked for help,
I had barely opened my mouth before I was crying.
After I finally said anything,
my mom stared at me,
shocked,
and it hurt worse than anything I've ever done to myself.

The first time I asked for help,
I thought it would solve everything.
I thought I'd be able to get out of bed in the morning.
I thought I'd stop hurting myself.
I thought I'd stop crying because I dropped a water bottle.
I thought I'd stop being sad.

The first time I asked for help,
I was extremely disappointed.
One pill did not fix everything,
I still struggle against myself.
The chains did not unlock
just because my therapist asked them nicely.
They loosened.