Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Damnit. Is that my alarm?” I think as,

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Where am I?” I slowly open one eye….

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The pain in my head hits as soon as the light reminds me…

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Oh fuck.” I am still alive.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Oh fuck.” I failed again.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Oh fuck.” Once again I have to face this life.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Four times before in less than 12 months,

Beep. Beep.

I am a failure once again.

Beep.

I did not want to be here.

Beep.

I do not want to live this life.

Beep.

Once again, I have proven the failure I am.

Beep.

Once again, I have proven the adage that practice does not,

Beep.

In fact, make one an expert on how to end their life.

Instead, once again I have to talk to the psychologist.

Once again, they’re going to volun-tell me that I need to be observed.

Beep.

Once again, here I am to sit here for five days.

Once again, an empty consideration of how you might get better.

Once again, the system is going to make it impossible for me to get the help.

The help, I so desperately require, desperately need.

Beep.

So many times, I know I showed all the warning signs.

So many times, I directly asked for help.

So many times, no one believed me.

Beep.

So many times, it was a sheer force of will that was saving me from falling off the edge.

So many times, closer and closer I was pushed to the ledge.

So many times, I jumped.

So many times, so many times, I failed.

I am still here.

Beep.

After so many times, proving I was unable to become an expert at ending my life.

Now, I must become an expert at living my life.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeep.