Tonight during dinner with my friends I left the table and walked away. Â I left my wallet, keys, and mobile phone behind. Â None of us realised that I wasn’t coming back. Â I don’t know where I went, exactly, but somehow I ended up at home. Â I must have broken in.
Why did I leave? Where did I go? Â When I woke up, my hands were dirty, and there were scratches on my arm. Â There was a knife stuck in the mattress next to me, but no blood.
My brain wants me dead, and I am scared.
1 comment
You have split off so completely from your emotions that it’s like two people living in the same body – one half pretends everything is completely fine, while the other half knows that something is terribly wrong and needs fixing.
What are you in denial about? What are you ignoring? What are you blocking out that is so incredibly dire that part of you wants to take a knife to cut the pain out?
Because that’s what the suicidal impulse is about – a last, desperate attempt to escape unbearable pain.
The only way out is to talk. And if you absolutely can’t find *anybody* to talk to, then start writing. Write a blog, a journal, anything. Whatever works best for you, just start getting it out. Otherwise it *will* kill you, one way or another.
Even if you have no idea what’s bothering you, just sit in front of a blank piece of paper or type on your computer, whatever’s easiest, and just start writing. It doesn’t matter what the words are, just let your subconscious take hold of that pen or pencil and let it all come out.