I wonder how many of the same days it took before the character in Groundhog Day tried to kill himself the first time. How many days watching the same events happen again and again before he overcame his fear of the unknown that is buried within the subconsious of us all, and tried to excape to oblivion? Did he have a moment's hesitation while he died? Did he immediately regret his decision? Or was he finally happy to be free? 

When I went to the Psychiatrist last week, I told her that I didn't think I was going to act on my thoughts. I told her that I didn't have a plan to follow through. I told her that I would let someone know, and ask them to keep an eye on me. I lied. The moment I reveal the truth to my family, the persona that I have spent my life building crumbles before my eyes. I will no longer be able to access the freedom that I so desperately crave to have. But with that freedom, comes greater risk to my well being.

I honestly don't know what will happen in the coming weeks. I do hope that I will be told that medication is the way to go. Being told that you need to talk about it just doesn't come naturally to me. I don't have anyone that I can be truly honest with. I thought I did. I was so sure.

Why J, why did that Ginger Prick deserve a second and a third chance, whereas I was dropped without blinking? What is it about me that makes people back track on their thoughts and feelings like that? Am I truly just a rag doll, that people are happy to throw around and abuse, before giving to the dog as a chewtoy?