Tell tale heart

Feeling like I can’t sleep and hearing noises in my room. I know its just papers being rustled by the ceiling fan. I don’t know why I am still awake. I should have passef out hours ago. I just have this emptiness that won’t go away and gets worse when I lie down. Plus being in pain isn’t helping. I just took my 3rd pill of the night plus an extra ativan. I should be happy my baseball team won tonight but all I feel is darkness. I feel like the character in the tell tale heart from Edgar Allan Poe. There is this pounding in my chest and I fear it will wake up the household. But it is only me that hears it. Maybe it is guilt that I have not done anything to end my life. I just want to die. I can’t stop thinking about it. Today I had a new idea but am afraid of the consequences of being found by my nieces so it stops me.

I asked my therapist for another session today. I don’t know if it will be feasible. If not I asked for a check in. I really feel suicidal but I don’t want to talk about it. I never do. I can write about it, no problem. But to speak the words some how changes me because I realize either I am rational or irrational. Things make sense when I am suicidal. It makes me feel better knowing I have the one outlet no one can take away from me. But slowly, people have. They make me think of the survivors. As much as I am in pain, I don’t want to be the cause the pain of others. I don’t want to live yet there are voices that want me to die. I don’t like these voices and meds can’t get rid of them. They are the beatings of the tell tale heart. These are the true feelings I have. That is why my chest is so heavy. It is carrying the mother load of bad voices that are right. All I have to do is listen to them and know they are guiding me to freedom. But why can’t I follow them. The safety voices prevent this from happening. It is a struggle every night. I just want the psychache to stop. And the only way for it to stop is by killing myself.