I am high functioning. I have the biggest dumbest heart ever. I love a little too much. I am a worrier. I can be obsessive. I get stressed out. I take care of people. I have never ever ever wanted to die.
I don't understand what makes anyone want to die, especially when they live in a nice house, and have awesome friends who love them and are totally supportive of them. Friends who are willing to do anything to keep you afloat, to make sure you're okay. Friends who feed you and stay up all night trying to convince you that you can get through this, its only a hurdle, a speed bump.
I called 911 for the first time in my life today. He was in a seizure and non responsive, and when he did look up at me his eyes went all googly. He didn't respond to his name, and he couldn't move. I accidentally put my arm in his sick, but that didn't bother me at all because I was too worried to worry. Sunday he tried to leave us, he almost did it. Today he told me he would get help. Today I found him almost dead. How many more times does this have to happen before he is okay? Can this be the last time?
