I Woke Up After Killing Myself

I woke up after killing myself last night.  That’s not hyperbole, I literally killed myself last night.  All the crap  and pain I’ve caused those I love culminated in a moment I’ve been fantasizing about for years.  Since I was a teenager and felt I didn’t belong, I always knew my life was worth less than those around me. I’ve always been too weak to go through with the deed because I did not want others to believe I went to Hell. So I plotted a way for my suicide to look like an accident. Yes my soul would be in Hell for my unpardonable sin, but my family will just think I was an idiot and had an unfortunate accident.

When I woke up this morning I was confused.  I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.  Flipping on the light switch and seeing myself in the mirror frightened me.  I had no cut. I had no bruising. I had no swelling.  No injuries to my face where I slammed it on the corner of granite counter-top.  I lifted my shirt where I knew the scissors pierced my chest – no scar. 

I seriously thought I dreamed the whole thing. 

I went to my wife’s side of the bed, nudged her and asked what happened when she got home last night from her mother’s house.  Frustratingly she huffed she is going tonight and last night she didn’t go anywhere.  She rolled over covering her head with her side of the blanket in the process. 

I chose the night she went to her mother’s for a reason. I didn’t want anyone here when it happened.  I didn’t want to be saved in case someone walked in on me.  I wanted to be sure I would not be helped in any way whatsoever. 

But this did not make sense. I went through with it last night. I should be dead.

I went online and confirmed it was the same day as when I killed myself.  I saw the same posts on Facebook and Twitter I saw - what I can only describe as yesterday.  Yet everything was exactly the same as it was then. 

Nothing has changed.

I’m still the messed up idiot who can’t get anything right.  I’m still the loser who has caused pain and regret in those I love most.  Nothing I can do can make others see me as anything other than a failure. 

My wife is at her mother’s house again. I am alone in the house again.  I’m sitting on the side of the tub exactly where I was last night. The water is on the floor for me to slip on again.  The scissors are again grasped in my right hand and the granite countertop is waiting for my face to slam into its corner again.

Maybe God gave me a second chance.

Maybe He just messed up on me again.

Maybe I’ll find out in the morning.