To live is so precious

I remember the times when I was psychotic and prepared razors, but luckily decided they’d help me to suicide in the hospital. I thought my mission was to go battle evil in Paradise, the sooner the better. Sometimes I just want to scream from horror of how awful the last psychosis was. I’m really frightened for my life. I want to live and be happy. I’m afraid to suicide in psychosis not for the wish to suicide, but for some mystical convictions that are formed in my mind at that time. I know it’s not getting logical, that my psychoses actually got no better than five years ago. I remember the awful times from 2008, when I wanted to kill myself different ways and was actually plotting it in my mind. I thought of jumping under a subway train. In 2010 I even prepared meds, then made a rope by myself. In 2012 a whole year was spent thinking how to put my fingers into a socket. But since 2013 I started meds and it got much better. But if I give them up… I guess next time I’ll die. If I wasn’t thinking to die in the mental hospital, I’d be already dead. But I can’t just tell myself not to die. The ideation had been going through my mind for years. I’ve been really afraid to die whether from a wish to die or from a paranoid thinking. I want to live as much as I can. To live a meaningful and creative life. And I’m angry that my brain might let me down. Only meds save me.