Dear Detective

A couple months ago, I snapped.

I realized I’ve been suffering through PTSD and depression. Honestly, I should have been hospitalized that day. But one phone call helped me change my mind.

I’ve been in denial this whole time. I was embarrassed to admit it.

And due to recent therapy, I’ve realized I’ve been depressed for several years, almost a decade.

Something in me snapped.

Maybe it’s all the drugs that is in my environment.

People that I don’t like being in my home.

I don’t partake in these certain drugs, but I can feel the energy

And it drains me and makes me sick.

I feel like the darkness surrounding me and its taking over my body, my mind, my soul.

I didn’t know who to talk to. Nobody. Seriously, nobody.

Not even my closest friends, boyfriend or parents.

I didn’t want them to think that they weren’t good enough to make me happy.

It’s not them, its me, really, its all in my fucking head. And I can’t get rid of it. The images that I remember from that one night, its bringing me euphoria because….well, I can’t explain it… Its sickening and mind fucking and beats me raw. What’s wrong with me!?!?!

I was staring at a gun when I decided to pour my heart out in writing. I wrote everything I was feeling, I didn’t care what anybody would think, it was all truthful emotions, because I didn’t think I would live to see people’s reactions. I would copy and paste it, but its just way too dark. And I don’t want “Future Me’“ to read it. I sent this letter to Detective Andrieni, he was the head of the sex crime department in Austin. At the time, when the shit happened, he was Sergeant and was in charge of my case, including the homicide. I felt like he would be the only one who would understand what I’m going through. He was there for me, every time. He would answer my phone calls when I was scared. He’s the one that took me to a Woman’s Safe House. He’s the one that held my hand when I found out that I was raped. He’s the one that drove me everywhere; to do composite drawings, look at mug shots, interviews. He’s the one that took me home after being at the hospital for 12 hours. He’s the one who showed me my apartment, which was blocked off into a crime scene and showed me all the clues. He’s the one that told me, that man killed another woman that same night. He’s the one that told me, that man was eventually found dead. He was there for me every single second. I’m forever grateful.

He responded back immediately, and we talked on the phone for a while. He listened and I cried. He told me I was worthy. He told me that I was strong. He told me everything was going to be okay. And he found me a therapist to go see. He found me a therapist!!!! And now I’m in forever debt to this man, so I need to try. I. Need. To. Try. I really need to try to turn this darkness that is suffocating me to a happier version of myself. I don’t know how long its gonna take. I hope I can do this. I think I can.