382 days

7,274 days since that first wound that did not heal,
1,460 days of a relationship that I destroyed with zeal,
382 days since I became a stranger to myself,
And fell into the worst crisis of my life, losing my way.

356 days without writing – 356 days in silence.
86 days in a hospital bed – 86 days in hell.
10 psych drugs that I tried in vain – 10 psych drugs that failed.
99 days without a job – 99 days of shame.

More than 30 sessions with shrinks – More than 30 sessions in refrain.
More than 200 scars, a roadmap of my pain – More than 200 stains.
More than several times I tried to end God’s plan – More than several failed attempts.
More than several times I hit the ground – More than several bullets to the chest.

Countless nights of tears, suffocation, and despair,
Countless nights I carved my skin like a canvas and painted it red,
Countless nights I felt like I was already dead.
Countless nights calling people, in fear of not seeing the next day,
Countless nights I hurt those who cared until most of them walked away.
Countless nights pleading for my life, begging God: «Not here, not like this…»
Countless prayers that friends and family lifted for me,
Countless words of encouragement that made me feel guilty for being me.

382 days…
Until today…
No more shame, no more thinking that I can’t.
Today I decide: this is NOT how my story will end.
This is me, this is who I am.

I have survived the darkest of times, and I am still standing.
I’m stronger now, I’ve learned to keep my head held high,
To those who believed in me no matter what:
I will keep fighting, and I promise that I will never give up.