I was on a roll, the words were flowing, it came easier than it has in years. But it’s been a bad week, the flow has been plugged, it’s like drawing blood from a stone. Inspiration has evaporated so here are some thoughts I’ve had this week.
I want to be free
From desolation and despair.
When will this loneliness be over?
Muse, Map Of The Problematique
I feel like life is passing me by. It distresses me. I see other people progressing, developing, growing while I feel stuck and trapped. How I feel is stopping me from pursuing opportunities but not pursuing them fuels how I feel. It’s a vicious cycle.
The way I always thought I would kill myself was by drug overdose. It just seemed so easy but now I’ve read up about it, it’s obvious so many things can go wrong. I could fall unconscious before it turns fatal, I could throw up and become too ill to continue, it can be long and slow and torturous.
Although I realise the best way to ensure death is by a gunshot to the head, I wouldn’t know where to find a firearm. The past two weeks I have become obsessed with hanging myself. Images plague my mind throughout the day, without any conscious effort; they just float in front of me, tempting me. I know I need to drop from a height to break my neck, otherwise it’s just being painfully asphyxiated for several minutes. That doesn’t sound fun.
Sometimes my vision is clouded with anger and jealousy. It makes me want to skin myself, leave me raw. I can’t compete with perfection.
It’s not like the world is against me, it’s just so unmoved by me that it doesn’t acknowledge my presence.
There are moments when I think I’m fine, that I’ve made a mistake, I’ve hoodwinked myself and those around me, it’s not actually depression or anxiety, I’m just another kind of crazy.
I’ve always relied on my mind and now I fear I’m slowly losing it.
The times I feel hopeful are becoming few and far between. I’m running out of options and the lights are going out.
I’m coming to terms with the idea that I will die by my own hand.
The earth is shifting beneath my feet and I’m going to fall through the cracks.
When I first started this, on good days I wanted to get better, on bad days I wanted to die. Now, on the good days I want to die and on the bad days I want to kill myself.
I told my parents the other night that I’m suicidal. I’ve never said that so explicitly to them but I saw them realise how severe this is. I don’t want to hurt them, I don’t want to take their eldest child from them but I also can’t deny that this is how I feel.
I know they’d be heartbroken but I don’t think the knowledge of their pain would keep me from killing myself. I’d have to lessen the blow by doing it at a place where someone else would find my body. That’s all I could offer.
I need to be useful, have responsibility, have a purpose. I’m just floating, not connected to anyone or anything. Everyone around me has attachments; I do not. Everyone else is a top priority for someone; I am not.
There are times when I feel something similar to happiness, even if it’s just the odd laugh at a shit joke or holding someone’s attention with a story. Half the time I wish I didn’t find pleasure in the small things.
I don’t feel strong for making it this far. I feel weak because I’ve not been able to commit suicide yet.