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I woke up in a hospital hallway. I had no clue what time it was, or how I got here. One way was dark, and the other way was lit. I obviously walked down the lit one. As I was walking, I felt the floor getting lower, and I started tripping over my feet. It felt like it went on forever, like it would never end.

Suddenly, I realized what I was wearing: a wedding dress.

The one my mother wore, but stained with paint. For some reason, all I could think about was my mom, and how she would get angry if she saw the paint, so I didn't realize that I was approaching a door. Inside the room, it was completely dark. I walked in, not thinking of what could be lurking there, but where the light switch was.

Suddenly, I felt myself falling. When I landed, it was bright, and I couldn't see anything but light. My stomach started to sting, as if something was eating away at my insides.

I shut my eyes and fell to the floor with a scream of agony. When I opened my eyes, I was in my bathroom, leaning against the bathtub. Something slipped from my hand. It was hydrogen peroxide. My stomach started to sting more, and my throat was burning. I fell and hit my head on the edge of the sink.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the hospital. But this time, I was in a hospital bed. My sister was in a chair next to me, sleeping. I looked around.

There was an IV pack attached to my arm. My head hurt, and my stomach was stinging worse now. I let out a small cry. My sister didn't hear me.

"Where was I?" I finally wondered. "What happened?"

I decided to shut my eyes again and lay my head back, as my mom walked in the room. I looked up at her. She brought a nurse.

They told me that I had taken a bottle of hydrogen peroxide as an attempt for suicide, and that I was screaming for help, yelling, "I regret it! Please help! I regret it!" They said I had been there for 3 days, asleep on medication.

They said that they needed to keep me on medication for a while, and that I needed to stay in bed and only eat/drink soft foods until my stomach recovers. It still remains a mystery to me why I was committing suicide, and why I had the dream that I did.

It haunts me forever, not knowing what my cause for suicide was, and I always questioned if that had really happened. My stomach still stings occasionally, and I will always have that horrible memory, but other than that, I have fully recovered.

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