Basically this. Is this part of 'frantic' efforts? I've begged before, I've pleaded, I've cried, I've cut. I've broken down on the floor and sobbed, I've felt like I was dying. And I don't want to feel that way. So then I swing the other way where I just don't let anyone in. I keep them at arms length because I know, at some point, they'll be gone too and I remember what it felt like. When emotional pain crosses over and I can physically, literally feel it like shards of hot glass piercing through me. So I feel emptier. Colder. But it doesn't feel like death. Or does it? Maybe that was dying and this coldness and numbness is death.

 Except, now I don't know who I am. I need someone, anyone to cling to...to tell me who I am because I don't know. To tell me where I belong because I'm lost. But then when the rescue boat comes...I turn it away...just in case...just in case it's not real, and it'll end up throwing me overboard again.