I probably shouldn’t have said that. 

My husband asked me about our monthly budget yesterday and from his phrasing and tone I knew where he was headed. 

“We can’t afford to move out” 

I panicked and told him that I would kill myself if we lived here passed September. 

I’ve never said such a thing to anybody before. 

In 25 years of death wish I’ve never threatened anyone with it. 

I’ve been in constant panic since yesterday afternoon. I couldn’t sleep. My heart is pounding. My head hurts. 

But I’ve realized two things today. 

Firstly, I hate living here so much because I can never find peace. I have no sanctuary. No place to escape. It’s like walking with legos under every fucking step. Every fucking day. For three fucking years. 

Secondly, I don’t think I was threatening. Or at least not idly. I haven’t been so close to crisis in a decade. I have thought about suicide more in the last year than in the previous ten combined.

If I have to live here past summer I’m sure at some point I will hurt someone. Probably me. 

I can’t do it anymore. 

At least now he knows. 

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