JUST ONE OF MANY
I used to cry out to God, weeping and screaming in anger for Him to rescue me. Every night I dreaded the morning, certain that I couldn't bear another day. Everything frightened me; the ringing phone, knocks on the door, school, work, everyone I came across, and most of all--myself. I never knew what I was going to do. I'd spread butter on bread and resist the urge to cut my own throat. I'd drive over a bridge feeling my hands wanting to twist the wheel over the ledge. I'd pour the first drink of the day before climbing into my car, knowing there would be more to come.
I so wished to die, but I knew what a sad funeral service it would be. No one would be surprised. People would talk about my potential rather than my achievements. My parents would blame themselves and live in shame and regret, and my brothers would lose their smiles and all innocence. My memory would be baggage to them.
It was time for a solution.