I’ve never said this out loud to anyone, I know I can’t, it just makes it worse, what I’m trying to say, which is what I’m going to try to say to you now though it might be the last thing I do.
It all started with a big cbd trip, they were just cbd gummies, a lot of them, a few weren’t working and Google said 600mg would be appropriate against a panic attack and I was suffering from low level anxiety continuously over the course of my life.
It didn’t happen until several hours after the overdose which increases the suspicion that it wasn’t the gummies at all, that they were just carefully, specifically placed in my moment in that time to be an excuse to change my reasoning for what was about to happen.
Because, you see it’s the reasoning of the thing that gives it essence, whatever is there, it exists when considered, when believed and writing this down is bringing it back to life.
I found myself in a sort of knowing, I was, in my minds eye in a solitary room behind a solid solitary door, stoned shut never to open and me there, nobody, not even the face of God was upon me and I knew that time was coming to a still as everyone I ever knew or love would forget I was there.
There was no escape, not even death and I briefly considered what I had done to be trapped there and what it would be like in a million million years when I was still there, alone, with nothing changed.
And the more I contemplated, the more time slowed around me until a moment stretched on and on and I spent what little moment I had left to text my fiance at the time to ask for help, but acknowledging this place made it more likely to exist and time froze every time I intended to tell her about it.
Knowing I wouldn’t survive the night, I texted her I had overdosed and time sped up when I acknowledged the room as not real, only part of a drug.
This is why I think it wasn’t an overdose, the universe was giving me a stick to hold onto, to save myself, but even as I consider this to write to you, I feel time begin to slow around me.
So I made it a story in my head, I’m telling it to you like it’s not real, like it never happened, so I can put these words in my phone for you to read, but again as I begin to reason this, time begins to slow even more.
So I must insist to myself in my heart that it was an overdose but if it was, why is slowing iii
Even when I try to ask for help, it comes for me, I can’t even tell people goodbye, but I’m telling you what didn’t happen because I don’t need your help.