Current mood:

crappy

To know what it's like to be someone who cares about me...
I would have to help my girlfriend hold tissue on her arm while she bleeds for... what was it? 45 mins?  While she bawls her fucking eyes out.  Then take her to dinner, where she just throws up the food I just paid for (and later doesnt even remember where the fuck I took her because she was so drugged up).  Then take her to the movies where she doesnt even watch the movie (nor remembers the parts she did stay for because, as said, she was so drugged) but spends the whole time crying in the bathroom.  I'd have to not know what the fuck to do to comfort her...

I would have to find my daughter overdosed on my couch, and have my boyfriend carry her to the car while we rush to the hospital.  Smack her face to try to wake her up... hold her hand as the ER gives her an IV to flush the drugs from her system... be scared to fucking death that she just tried to kill herself.  Later, I would have to visit her in the mental ward of the hospital for at least the fifth time in her life.

I would have to hear my girlfriend cry out that we need to go to the hospital because her daughter may be dying.  I would have to carry the girl I consider as good as my daughter out to the car and speed down the highway to get to the hospital.  Then help undress her, and comfort her as we wait for her to be ok...

I would have to see my sister apparently sleeping on the couch across the room, then watch as my mom discovers she's overdosed on Excedrine and Ativan.  Watch as my mom screams for her boyfriend to help because they need to get my sister to the hospital.  Watch as my pseudo-stepdad carries her limp - and as far as I know, dying - body out to the car.

I would have to get a call on my cell, telling me my sister tried to kill herself and is in the hospital.  I would have to cry in front of my sisters and mom - which I HATE to do because I prefer to be the strong sister - trying to express how scary it was for me to know my sister almost died, and how it probably scarred me for life.

I would have to see my friend come to work and try to make it through the day...  See how she has started to wear an armband on her other arm - and know why, because we have all seen her scars.  I would have to wonder where she is the next day when she doesnt show up for work.  Then worry to death when I find out she's in the hospital... thinking she slit her wrists...  Then lose it and cry in front of her when she finally returns to work.

In short, I would have to suffer things I have never suffered, and mostly probably never will.

This shit has been going through my head all day...  And I thought I knew self-loathing.  I thought I knew guilt.  Mostly, I thought I knew what it was like to wish I were better, if just for those other people.  I had no fucking clue.  And all I can think is - how dare I?  How. fucking. dare. I?