Live or die

I've been in distress the whole day, and fighting to not lose it when I had to be social. My mother and sister came by, and it was clear to me that I needed their support and guiding for my shopping of various necessities. I faded out in the car when they were talking about something they thought was funny. I couldn't hear it, nor did I care. My mother asked me if there's anybody there (in me, as in was I present), and I just couldn't take my eyes of the air in front of me, but managed to say "no". That must be the closest thing to truth I've ever spoken these last few weeks.

I think I need to tell my mother about that part of me being suicidal and all, but I just don't want her to worry. I've started thinking that if I die everyone would be better off without me. I'm such a mess, causing everyone to worry. I can tell you have all given up on me. That I will never be happy, never have a career, never learn to drive, never start living. I can't even imagine how hard it must be to have a friend, a brother or a son who has repeatedly tried to commit suicide for a decade. All I am is failure, my life was a mistake. I'm not saying you don't care, cause I know that you do, and that is why you worry, cause if you didn't care you wouldn't be worried.

No, I'm not yet planning anything. My thoughts of suicide are tangled in webs of incoherent words and brutal pictures in my head. I visualise how it could be like to jump, or rather just fall. Or would I faint? My fear of heights is extreme, you see. I imagine I would feel so dizzy and nauseous and that my heart would beat so fast. I can't imagine anything more scary, so why would I want to end my life that way?

These thoughts give me a headache. Beyond the fact that I already hurt inside cause I think my heart has tied a knot around itself. I don't want to die, I don't want to leave everything to never be able to go back. The problem is that I don't want to live either. I really, really don't want to live like this. What was it I said? That I have nothing to lose by staying alive because sooner or later we all die.
What kind of crap is that? As long as I'm alive I will always have something to lose. But the most ironic of it all, is that most of all, right now, I fear for my future. I fear that I will kill myself. That must be the definition of ambivalence. That I want to kill myself at the same time as I'm scared as hell that I'll actually do it. What a paradox I've gotten myself into.

I'm torn apart between them. Of not wanting to either live or die, being just as scared of living as I am of dying. But this little voice inside my head (not Anna) says: make up your mind, live or die. And a part of me so silently whispers that I can just barely hear it: I choose to die.