I call it the brain period. For four days in the month, I have panic attacks.
Sometimes, I can handle them. Other times, like today, they get a bit too much.
Well, suicidal much.
Like I cannot get the thought of ending it all out of my mind. Go jump off a bridge, slit my wrists.
Death is better than dealing with this fear.
I cannot live.
I cannot live like this.
I cannot face the day like this. Every attack drags me down.
Every attack takes me to a darker place. To a place where I cannot see the way out.
The light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train.
I cannot live like this anymore. This is not living.
This is creeping into a hole, too afraid to do anything.