I  write this, years after the fact, while listening to Max Richter’s Sleep. It is rather appropriate, as then, I was aching for utter blackness, yearning for the final sleep. It was the darkest day of my life. The lowest point of my existence. I had given so little but it was all I had to give.

A young woman, I had recently freed myself from my marriage, my childhood town, yet I remained tethered to my trauma. Captive or free, I remain a prisoner. 

In those years, I lived in an apartment that I hardly slept in. I walked in a body that I barely respected. I occupied a mind that I faintly comprehended. I had no rules, no boundaries. I was fickle, emotionally unavailable, and terribly stupid. Men came and went. The only constant was work and my few girlfriends. But even they had no idea that I was lost, hurt and broken. I hid it well. 

I am a master of disguise. My smile and laugh bandage the rips and tears threatening to reveal me. But I can hold a smile. I can laugh in earnest while rotting on the inside.

The decay within was overpowering. My breath stank of dead flowers. My eyes, pools of impenetrable darkness. My young limbs, ready to retire. I decided today was the day that I would have my final sleep.

There was a minor fight with my lover-of-the-moment. I did not care that he changed our weekend plans. I knew he was going to be with her. He expected me to be upset but I was relieved. I was tired. I wanted to be alone. I needed to prepare.  

I always knew exactly how I would do it. With two bottles of pills and two bottles of red wine. That would do the trick. Leaving a bloody mess behind is inconsiderate and if you know me, I like to keep things tidy and clean.

I had the two bottles of pills at home, I just needed to stop for the wine. Typically, I buy the best wine I can afford but this was no celebration. This was my final farewell. Cheap wine was appropriate for the pitiful occasion.

I thought that swallowing two bottles of pills with wine would be easy. It is not easy. I swallowed half of the pills with large gulps of wine. I had hoped that would be enough. It was not. Soon enough, I felt light headed and drunk. And I started to laugh at myself. I went out for a cigarette. This was not part of the plan. Ok, so one cigarette, then back to business. Back inside, I swallowed the rest of the pills, and chugged the rest of the wine, straight out of the bottle. No sense in dirting a cup. 

I remember thinking ok, this is it. Finally! But no, I woke up hours later completely fucked up, out of my mind. Did I try to finish the job? I did not. I needed a cigarette badly. I could not swallow one more pill but I could swallow more wine. So I drank the second bottle of wine and smoked many cigarettes. At some point, I ended up in my car, trying to start it. I left the door wide open. I could barely keep my head up. Two guys who lived in my building were in the parking lot and they saw me. I was a complete fucking mess. They carried me out of my car and brought me back inside of my apartment. I do not remember anything else. When I woke the next morning I was greeted with the nastiest of hangovers. I hated myself even more. I walked into the bathroom, looked in the mirror at my disgusting face, and thought “Next time, buy better wine.”