I'm just a terrible person.

It was about a year ago, a few weeks after freshmen orientation. I was getting drunk, of course, because it was the weekend. I'm sure you know the average dorm party, so I'll cut to the chase. She and I were making out in my room, going at it for a while. fueled by too much alcohol, my I started to roam, squeeze, and do things I really shouldn't have done. She said something about having to go to a soccer game tomorrow, needing to sleep, I fired back with 'just a few more minutes". After, again, squeezing what I shouldn't, things begin to get hazy as I put her necklace back on, she goes out, and I roam the halls for a while.

A student council comes, finds me, and brings me to his room. Having sobered up, I realize what had happened.

"You really scared her, man"

I didn't sleep at all that night. Not one blink. How could I, when my guts were tearing themselves apart from agony and guilt?
I walked around like a zombie the next day, I swear I could hear everyone whispering about what had happened, though the council swore he had kept it confidential. I was working on an assignment that afternoon, trying to get my mind clear, when an RA knocked on my door, telling me I had a meeting with the Life Director later
that day.

"Will I be able to stay?"
"I really can't talk about that."

It was a quick meeting between the three of us. I was miserable,going on about how I couldn't believe I did it, the assistant was staring into space, and the LD was, well, professional about it. He explained what would happen, going through the disciplinary board or something, I really wasn't listening. I knew I'd be kicked out
of the dorms, and that's something I couldn't handle. To have that go through the community at home- that I was kicked out for sexual assault- I just couuldn't let that happen.

So I trie to take the cowards way out. I walked out from the meeting, across the street, and bought an assortment of pills, and a lot of them. I got back to the dorm, and washed them all down with half a fifth of whiskey.

It didn't work, and I woke up as my roomate was coming in the door.

"Man, I feel like Death"

"Joe, get an RA"

the resulting trip to the hospital, the call home, the hallucinations, pumping of my stomach, all was like a dream. I still don't know if I've awaken from it, yet.

My family took me home, where I was completely unsure of what step to take next. I never told them why I trie to commit suicide, but they wern't really shocked by it, as I had tried it once before.
They assumed I was too far from home and couldn't handle it. Maybe that's true.
I'm back in school, now, pursuing an alltogether different education. It was a rare night that I can fall asleep without thinking of what I did, helpless to stem the flood of memories, how I fucked up so badly. I recently wrote an email the the LD, telling him as much, that I felt so guilty, ashamed, and angry at myself.
That it was all my fault, that I was the one who fucked up, not her. The only hope I had for myself, was to work so that I never fall that low again, to prove that I'm better, much better than that.

I just don't know if I can do it. Soon it will be one year ago that it happened, and I still feel the same guilt and hate. I still think about what happpened and it feels like yesterday. I still hate myself for it, and don't feel that I've made up for my bad karma yet. I'd be lying to you if I don't think about killing myself again. Every other week or so, I just get so low that I break down and can't bring myself to do anything, lost in myself.
My family obviously doesn't know the whole story, and I doubt they ever will. Only me, the people involved, and now you, know the whole story. It's the story I cannot tell.

I'm just a terrible person.

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