i came so close. to saying goodbye. but something in me waited. or made me wait. and with my dad home tonight i can only imagine what it might have done if i had done what i contemplated. its so easy alone and isolated, no real contact save the random text from loved ones to think that it wouldn't be a big deal, that i would be doing a favour, that my absence would make things better. if you know this line of thinking..... here again this stupid man or maybe i should say insane because doing the same thing over and over again-loving a depressive like me must be a form of insanity, a form of livng torture. i had it planned out. but as with so many plans the bed reduced me to sleep and watching old episodes of lewis. desperate for episodes of anything to take and distract the mind away. why not do some productive with this mental energy? when in thought my thoughts turn to how much easier it would be surely for me. for everyone. but really for me and i see the inherent selfishness of my would be act. but would it be though i'd stop causing pain right? and then out of nowhere this silent self voice says, no, i don't want to do this. and i listen and curse it for not speaking up sooner. where were you when i needed to go for a run, to get outside myself and meet others, to socialise. where was this voice that said no i don't want to die, when i needed to write to be productive. and before i can even finish interrogating myself it disappears again. and i'm left with the other voices. the critic. and the judge who made her decision about me a long time ago. a sentence i can't seem to shake. and i repeat my pattern, spend the day in bed, make myself rise to make sure the beer i drank is replaced. and the day outside is one of those gorgeous autumn days, sun still somehow warm, leaves the shades of fire and spontaneously i want to go for a run. suddenly i exhale a little. then i get back to the house and go back to my nest. and despite all desire to the contrary turn the tv back on, that magic box that can allow a sort of numbness fall. the case wasn't full when he left, so must drink some no? and the amber liquid again reduces me to a state of honesty or realisation about what's goin on. what's really goin on. which the daily dose i must take somehow keep me numb from. i still wonder. haven't i done enough? haven't i broken your heart? if you would just left me go then maybe i could go. if i didn't know what pain i would inflict. if i knew that my news would be accompanied by a sad sigh, one mixed with relief for a burden finally being left. you stupid people i've tried so hard to make you not care, why must you insist on continuing?