AUPipo: I stare into the eyes of the therapist, "We're here for you but you need to talk." She says and suddenly her phone rings and she answers not bothering to say another word about the topic. My dad has papers in his hands, he's doing some sort of vice principle work or something. My mom is staring down at her phone answering texts I want to kill myself I say in my mind. But no, they can't read thoughts the therapist sets her phone down and stares at me.
"Pipo? Do you want to kill yourself today?"
"No," I say lying and truthfully wake up everyday with a new strategy on how to end my life today. I got to school and put all my energy in seeming happy then come home and just want to sleep. They keep asking why I don't talk during these therapy sessions then one of them will leave or answer a phone or something. I just wanna die. The interrogation starts and they keep talking about me as if I'm not there and I don't know what to say because I can't tell if the questions are rhetorical and when they want me to answer. In the end I take an entire bottle of aspirin, drink some whiskey, and try to drown myself in the bathtub while downing four bottles of pain pills for when my dad got knee surgery.
I fall asleep and almost drown but don't. I fucking hate myself