I’m 24 years old. A week ago I got prescribed temazepam (a benzodiazepine) because I often have trouble sleeping at night. Two days ago I went to the pharmacy and picked up my prescription. That night I took all of the pills in the container (30 pills). I did it to escape reality, but in retrospect, I did it in the hope that I wouldn’t wake up after I went to sleep. I often consciously idealize suicide but never expected myself to (sub)consciously engage in an attempt to realize that idealization.
The day after I stumbled around, still numb and dozing off due to the anxiolytic effects of the drug, and my dad came to me in my room, whilst I was crying my heart out, releasing all the emotions that I carry with me silently, never allowing myself to show that very dark, sinister side of me.
I tried to end it all taking the easy route. The strength to carry on the fight left me that night. And so I, in some kind of desperate hope to end my nonsensical existence, I tried to overdose. I’m not a woman, but the lyrics describe my current state of being… “I don’t know what she’s doing now… last I heard from her she said… she felt as if she should be dead… I guess in fact, she usually does.”
