And the Darkness Stares Back

I used to imagine running my car off the road into a ditch or cutting in front of an 18-wheeler. I wanted a quick death made to look like an accident. How easy would that be? My parents wouldn’t know that I was mentally unstable or blame themselves for not seeing it. I would imagine it happening while I was driving on the highway. I would make it real in my mind and always, without fail, I would start to think about my Mom. I would think about what it would do to her to lose her youngest child. How it would knock her out for weeks because her Fibromyalgia would flare up. How much I would hurt her. And I wouldn’t be able to think about it anymore. She doesn’t know it but she constantly saves me from killing myself.