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I shake my head, stomach turning over as I put it back in my bag and hesitate, even though my heart is saying to leave it well alone. Something inside of me is fighting it and I’m not letting it go as I tilt my head back to let out an exaggerated sigh into the eerie surroundings. My inner stubborn is grabbing at my soul and begging me to end my own agony and reach out to someone I know will help me.

‘Just do it! … It can’t be worse than this.’ I say it out loud to myself, telling myself off, shaking some sense into me. 

I know before I pull that card out that I have already made my mind up. I’m weakening, my health, my heart, my fight. It’s all been shaky since the day I left that hospital and I have barely been holding on for months. I am so tired of struggling to fight every day, and the thought of someone else taking control for just five little minutes is like a life savour in the stormy sea. Just five minutes of not