Warning signs are all I have left

I've grown into a weird comfort level with being on edge. Before I get too in depth, the current plan is to start some form of medication for my depression, it just depends first on meeting with the right people and appointments and what not. There is no current timeframe.

Regressing, I'm being slowly trained on how to dance on knife edge. People ask how I'm doing, and I write out long truths about how I debate what songs to ruin for people by requesting them at my memorial, before erasing it and saying "not so great".

It isn't, that this is an idea I actively court, it's more like a stalker that never leaves my window, and more and more seems like the only viable option I have left. I have, nothing else really in my life. There, is no real light there. The plan is just to suffer through it until I see a psychiatrist, sooner rather than later.

I write, and try to form some sort of narrative, as that is kind of the only thing keeping me alive at this point. I find it incredibly hard to get out of bed, to stop crying, or to write here. Writing here forces me to face the realities of my situation, and that is incredibly painful to relive.

I know there are other options if I begin to lose control. The question though, is can I opt into those in that brief span where I lose control but don't do succumb to my temptations towards violence.

I feel like I've lost the last three months of my life to this. So much time just wasted, lost to this vacuum. As it goes on, I'm starting to feel like I won't be able to climb back out again this time. How many times can I tell people that I want to die before they just stop asking all together.