Trigger Warning: Self Harm/Suicidal Ideation
I’m back again. Back here on the Internet, crying out like a fool for likes and metaphorical thumbs up. I fear I may disappear completely if I don’t start writing things down. I don’t even know what I feel. Other than sad. And empty. I want life to grow inside of me again. (Not like a pregnancy…more like a fire…I guess?) I’ve been plotting my death for so long that it feels like second nature to have suicide in my back pocket at all times as a back up plan. I think for a while it’s been on the forefront of my brain though. Not that I want to die. More like I’m scared to die. I don’t trust myself not to do it (i.e. kill myself). I held a box cutter at work today and thought about how easy it would be to just slide that fucker across my wrists and let myself bleed out. And what a show that would be! I’ve always had a flare for the dramatic and what a way to go that would be! But then again, I don’t want to be stuck working at Joann’s for the rest of my undead life. What misery that would be. And so ironic, considering how much I hate it there.
god.
I scare myself sometimes with how easily it is for me to talk about the end of my life. Like it’s just another inevitable thing that’s gonna happen one day. I’ve barely made it out of the 27 club.
you know, a fucked up thing about me?
I daydream about death. I daydream about the day I’ll die and what it will be like for my loved ones when I leave them behind. It’s sick. I’m sick.
I want to get on disability. But my partner says it wouldn’t be good for me to stay home all the time on my own. I’m getting into reading again though. Maybe I could work on reading my bookshelf. Maybe I could immerse myself back into some real works of fiction and pretend to be those characters instead of..well…me.