Can’t trust me

I’m in a great job, working good hours with a bunch of staff who are really happy people. I have an amazing husband who’s gorgeous, kind and smart and a circle of friends who believe in me, support me and care about me.

So why do I stand on the very edge of the platform when I know an express train is coming?

Why do I want to tip my body that slight bit further than it should go if I’m standing at a great height? Why do I so badly want to fall?

Why do I pause when I wash kitchen knives after a meal Alun’s lovingly cooked and why do I have an entire strip of penicillin tablets (if I take even a tiny bit, it will kill me) saved up in a hidden draw at home?

Because depression is so dark and so deep that no matter who loves me, I still want to die. That’s why.

I can’t accept any goodness in my life so I look for the way out. The permanent way out. All the time.

This is so hard, you guys.

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