Last night I went to a house party. There were two or three junior doctors there. We were all pretty drunk. I got them talking about the most humane way to kill. I’m not going to disclose what they said here because I respect the rules.
I enjoyed the conversation very much. I made up some bull about wanting to write for TV horror. I’m not going to do anything of the sort. I wanted to find out what the best way to die would be, and what they would choose. I found out some details that would be helpful if it does come to that – I know how to avoid living and brain damage now with a certain method.
I was in a very dark place. Some guy lied to me all evening about something and when I found out I sort of shut down. I walked away and sat on the floor and ignored him when he came over to me. He stroked my hair. I crave affection but not from a liar. I escaped him when it was clear he wasn’t going away. I think it was a reflection of what happened with my now ex boyfriend. He lied about his reasons for his behaviour – he must have done – and I feel duped. I’m a fool for believing him.
If you duck out through the bathroom window, there’s a sort of roof that you’re not meant to go on but it does support your weight. A net covers the drop in between the buildings. The drop must have been a couple of stories – it was too dark to see. Someone was out there smoking and I walked around the precipice. He guy tried to dissuade me but I just had to. Doing it felt much better than wondering what it would be like. I got around without a single stumble. Then he did it. It turned out he had also been suicidal for a year. He didn’t do it because it would have hurt other people.
That was a good enough reason for me last time. I’m so numb this time round that reasoning like that doesn’t seem to work… asking myself if that’s a good reason to live is like throwing a coin into a dark bottomless pit – there is no sound when it hits the floor, and you don’t know if it ever will. I’m not seeming to respond to that reasoning at all. It’s bizarre, it’s not really like me to be like this.
Then the liar guy came outside so I walked away and I didn’t see him any more.
Later on I went out to the roof and cried by myself. I’m in mourning for my boyfriend. I can’t believe how all we were is suddenly no longer in existence. I’m not left alone but I’m left without him – without our breakfasts and coffee, without our conversations of how he’s going to make his success, without being held and loved and kissed. In reality that all started to dissipate a couple of months ago when he kissed another girl and my trust in him broke. But I really believed that we would get all that pleasure back.
I thought I would kill myself there, on that roof, armed with my new knowledge from the doctors. I didn’t. I don’t want to hurt myself. I value my body and I want to keep it unharmed. It helps that other people value my body too. I’m lucky to be in this slim, sexy, beautiful young body.
I was at a low point, and I didn’t kill myself. I was drunk, upset, weighed down by all the rubbish that has happened to me. I don’t know if it’s possible to have a lower point – maybe if I have a lower point I might still do it. But now I know that on average I’m not going to do it. I still think about it a lot. But that doesn’t mean I’m actually going to do it. They’re just thoughts that I use to subconsciously punish myself for things not going well. I’m not going to take action on these thoughts. And that helps me. It makes me feel a bit more safe from myself.
I am still on a self-destruct mode and I probably am sabotaging things that I want to go well, but I’ll have to think about that later, I’m a bit overwhelmed with where I am right now.