I’ve been taking a lot of cough medicine lately, which tends to make me drowsy. The other night I had quite a scary dream during one of my naps, and I thought it might be fitting to go along with #WellnessWednesday and my focus on depression/mental well-being.
Me and another girl (I can’t remember what she looked like) were having a conversation at a coffee shop. We were asking each other about our scariest moments. I gave a short story about being chased by a cat. This was her response:
Her: Hmm, well I think the scariest moment in my life was when I was depressed at fifteen.
One day I lined up my pills in a straight row on the counter. Like a line of coke or something. I was gonna down each one like taking shots and then I was going to go to bed.
Me: So… you were trying to kill yourself?
Her: Yeah, I was. I really was. -Laughs-
So I started taking them. I was halfway through and I looked up and saw myself in the mirror, and it was like I was looking at a murderer. Like behind the glass in a police station, and you’re the witness. Except there wasn’t a row of suspects, it was just me. I was the murderer.
And that was the scariest part. You’re afraid of cats. Other people are afraid of spiders. Some people are afraid of psychopaths slitting their throats open and putting their body parts in a fridge.
I am afraid of me.
And I can never get away from me.