I seem to be living in this weird other world between insane and sane. I wish I could just go one way or the other forever. I know I'm not sane enough to be sane, I know I'm not insane enough to be insane. My pills keep me hovering here. I know I need more intensive help, but I'm too scared to ask. It will cost too much money, and frankly I'm just waiting to die. Everything would stop hurting, everything would stop when I die. It is taunting me again. Little whispers of suicide. It enticed me once before, it's enticing me again.
The psych nurse scoffed when I told her I feared for the day when the pain over the pain I have caused others would go away. She said it probably wouldn't. I was right and she was wrong. I can get over any emotion. I'm very skilled at locking them away. They disappear and even if I wanted to I can no longer touch them. Shut behind doors with no handles. Smooth so my fingers just gloss over them. Nothing there anymore. No more guilt.