So here I am. Not dead, alive, and breathing. Alive, but in an odd place. A mental hospital. What brought me here?
I filled the tub with lukewarm water. I played music. It was a mix between meditation music and some hip hop and rap. Whatever was on my playlist to be honest. I went upstairs to get something sharp. As college students, we didn’t have a knife set, but for some odd reason we were in possession of a tool box I grabbed the box cutter. This would suffice. I wrote a suicide note. As a perfectionist who is innately horrible at everything, a terrible combination, I wasn’t satisfied with my suicide note. I also unhealthily imagined how people would find me. I was terrified that I would traumatize my roommates. I did not want to be found naked, so I put on a sports bra and spandex. I slipped into the soothing water with the music faintly playing in the background. I glanced at the box cutter. I glanced at my bare forearms. I was ready.