There is a point.

Memories haunt me. My mental illness is my reason for running towards the future. My mental illness is my reason for fearing what I run to. I once thought the world was watching me. What if I loose my mind again? What if I end up in the psychiatric ward again, for the eighth fucking time? I take my pills every night. But they hurt me! They help me. But they hurt me... What if they stop working? What if I get high again, but don't come down? Or keep falling? How will I get up? How will I stand? I am sick, always will be. I never gave up, but what if I do one day? What if I betray those who love me? What if I lay cutting through wrists, taking all my meds . . . Hanging? Bleeding? Forever not being? Suicide is on my mind all the fucking time. Even when I am happy, it chases me through halls with bare walls. When I am sad I think of my friends and family. I think of how much they'll miss me. I think of our memories. I think of their anger. Their loosing the ability to forgive me. I think of love. I think of the importance of it. I close my eyes. I see my dog. And after saying allowed, "Put a gun in my mouth." I say to my dog, the one I see with my eyes closed... "I, will, never, abandon, you. I will protect you." And I open my eyes to see the surroundings my life has made. And I imagine my girl. And I imagine my dad. I feel love that only being alive, and staying alive can give. And I no longer fear the future. I look forward to it. I am proud of who I am. I am Blake Horsley and I am a man who wants to help the world because so much of the world loves and gives me reason to not leave it. It is my illness that tries to blind me from reasoning. I choose to never abandon that which loves me because love is the reason my illness does not defeat me. Love is the reason I take my meds.

My mom tried to commit suicide more than once. I saved her when I was 12. If I do the same, what would have been the point?

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