Saturday, February 13, 2010

Valentine's Day

two years ago on Valentine's Day, I passively attempted suicide. I drank a handle of rotgut vodka after not eating for five days, lay down on the couch where I was living and waited. I was either going to live through the night or die. I didn't care either way.

I was in a coma for 6 days, on life support. My parents were told to make funeral arrangements.

After 17 days in ICU, I was released to a rehab clinic in the swamps of Florida. I did my 30 days, and went home to NJ.

Two years later, I'm on full disability because of severe bipolar disease. I live off government checks and self-disgust.

No one will ever love someone as fucked up as I am. It's impossible.

I know this, and I wonder why I survived. Some days, like Valentine's Day, are worse than ever.

I'm alive, sober, and here. I'd just like to know why.

Fuck Valentine's Day.


  1. I know that it sounds cliche and super cheesy, but I do believe that everything happens for a reason. (Hey, I think my meds are finally working!) I am bipolar as well.
    I know I am a stranger over the internets, but I read your stuff all the time and you are funny, a great writer and pretty. (Sorry if that sounds creepy...)
    If you ever need to vent, I'm here.

  2. I don't know how I would have gotten through the last few months without you. So maybe that's part of why you're here. I know that every day I'm so glad you are.