I wasn’t successful in my attempt, though I don’t think I cared either way at that point. I had reached rock bottom and ambivalence is the only emotion that survives there.
It is said that only the good die young and I have never been good enough for anything.
Thoughts of dying were constant within my abused mind. They occupied my bed, attended every meal and followed my every movement.
I was buried alive and the air that I breathed lasted way too long.
In the moment that could have been my last, I didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. I was crazy. I wasn’t the “hearing voices” kind of crazy though.