You wait.
You wait because that's all you can do. You wait for the "it gets better" times. You wait to live to survive. Even when your eyes gloss over and you body heats up from the thought of floating.
Pain radiates throughout your body, waiting for the sweet release. Tears build behind your eyes.
"Are you there?" I ask
"I'm always here, and your always there."
"I don't think I can keep going on, but I'm afraid" I confess
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid of the nothingness. What's happens after, what if it doesn't work, what if it's painful."
"Would you rather stay here, wishing you had the guts?"
".. . . I don't know"
So I wait. I wait until the next time. I wait until I'm not afraid.