Symphonies of The Overdosed.

Dear... whatever you are,

My therapist said I should take up journaling whenever I need to talk. Well, whenever it gets hard, more like. It's a process, but hopefully it'll help. I don't want to call this... you... a diary, because I'm not some teenage girl writing about her crush in a pretty pink notebook. I'm a grown man, I just don't know what to call this.

It doesn't matter, nothing matters. Not anymore, at least.

After everything, you would think I'd have a positive view on life. That's what happens, right? You almost die, and then you realize how beautiful your life is and you learn to love who you are and how you live...

That's all complete bullshit though, isn't it? I hate it all. I lost my job, lost my husband. I lost my legs. I don't have anything, anyone anymore. What's the point in life when you're all alone, right? You're living for yourself but you hate who you are. You can't do anything.

I should sleep... It's two forty three in the morning, my sleep schedule is a mess. I don't want to be awake, so why am I forcing myself?

Then again, every time I close my eyes all I can see is the truck in front of me. I can see it colliding with my car, I can feel the pain all over again. Everything replays and it's like it's in slow motion.

Maybe I should give up sleep. Maybe I should sleep forever.

So many choices, so much time to decide but everything feels like such a blur in my life now that I feel like I'm running out of time. I'm always running out of time, I never have enough. I'm going to die soon anyway, right? Why am I so worried about all of this?

God, my therapist would hate me for thinking all of this. She wants to help me, but then again that's her job. Her job is to care and even then I feel like every time I enter her office, she wants me gone. Even the person I pay to care about me hates me. That's all this is, everyone and everything hates me.

The world is going against me, and it sucks.

Have you ever had them world go against you? Well, no, you're a book, but... I know what I mean. It's the worst.

I just want to be normal again, I want to be okay.

The clock keeps ticking and it's so... so bothersome. It's just ticking, ticking, ticking. So repetitive, so annoying. I wish I could smash it but it's too high up on the wall and I can't stand and... I wish I could stand. I wish I could walk. I wish I could run away but I was an idiot and now my legs are gone. Nothing.

This is my karma though, isn't it? I remember as a kid I used to always make fun of disabilities... Why would I do that? I was such an asshole as a child, and I wish I never did that. This happened to me because I was so horrible. It's the only logical answer, right? It's the only one that makes sense.

It's now three in the morning and I want nothing more than to drift off. I can hear my neighbor getting up for work, she starts at 4:00am. Too early for a job at Walmart, in my opinion, but I guess they are open 24/7. She always lets her alarm blare for half an hour before actually getting up, and by that point I can hear her shower running. The walls are far too thin, I can't help but hear when I'm up at this hour. It seems now that I'm always up at this hour.

I always think to myself that I could play music, I could listen to some songs I used to love and try and be happy again but I know it won't work. I could blast Smashing Pumpkins from my speakers as loud as they'll go and I can sing along to Ava Adore until my throat is aching for me to stop but my heart will never feel full again. Everything hurts now, everything feels wrong and even Billy Corgan can't fix it anymore.

I miss being a ratty teenager. I miss running around and doing what I want to do when I want to do it. I miss the arguments with my parents when they didn't like what I'd done, when I brought someone over that they hated. I miss being able to slam my door shut and wash away all my worries with music. I miss being a kid and being happy over the littlest things but now I'm an adult and all I want to do is die.

If only life was easier. That's what they all say, don't they? If life was easier, my husband would still be here. Andrew would kiss my forehead and help me into bed and cuddle me until my eyes closed. He'd make me breakfast in bed and kiss me goodbye before he went off to work. If he were still here, we would still talk about our future together. We'd talk fondly of kids again, we were so close to the idea of adopting. He wanted to get it started last month, but then I was an idiot and I ruined it all. It all went down the drain because I was too dumb to focus on the road.

If I wasn't so stupid, he would be alive right now. He would be beside me and we would be happy.

The text was so important, wasn't it? I just had to check my phone then and there, didn't I? God, I could've asked Andrew to check it for me, read it aloud. But he looked so cute dozing off in the passenger seat. I couldn't bother him, and it's my fault he never woke up.

The stupid text... My sister was so worried, texting 'SOS', 'Important!' 'Please, I need help!' like she was being fucking kidnapped. It was all over a dress. She wanted my opinion on a dress and that's what costed me my legs, that costed me Andrew's life.

If I pulled over to read it, maybe it would've been better. Things would've been fine. But I was so scared that she got herself into trouble, that she was hurt...

I can never forgive her for that. I can never forgive myself for this.

It's four in the morning. Sarah's leaving for work, and I'm staring at my medication bottles.