The game of life is hard to play, I’m gonna lose it anyway

Okay, so I can’t take it anymore. I first tried committing suicide when I was about 6 or 7 by tying a cowboy belt round my neck and pulling. I had been getting bullied and molested by my older sister. I always got bullied at school and at home from as young as I can remember to when I left school. Once I got to university I thought life would be different, but it turns out I’m just a complete fuck up, and after two attempts at my degrees and various ill health problems I crashed and burned out of education.

I’ve always been a depressed little git, but again I thought I would be better once I met my wife. I fought hard to get with her as she was dating a drug dealer when we first met. After a year of her saying she will leave him, then not, then telling me we shouldn’t talk, then us getting together, she finally left him. We spent three years together, and got married less than a year ago. During this time I had dropped out of uni, and have been out of work since then. I only found out recently she hated and resented me for not bringing in any income, or for not doing some house work. I’ve gone weeks without leaving the house and days without barely leaving the bedroom, the last thing I felt like doing was doing the washing up, but of course, worrying about her shouting at me made feel worse.

She left me on Tuesday and I’ve figured that I’m not cut out for this world. The way I explained it to my friends is that it is like a car on hill, but it has got blocks stopping it from rolling down hill. It doesn’t need a push or anything, it’s gonna end up going down, but it, for the time being, is stopped by something. My wife was the one thing stopping me. Her leaving me isn’t the cause of my suicide, but her being with me was the reason I’m not already dead.

I sat in the bath a few weeks ago with a razor blade to my throat but couldn’t go through with it (that was when she said she was going to leave me). I saw a psychiatrist and he upped my dosage of anti-depressants. Then when she left me on Tuesday I knew what I was going to have to do. After much research on the internet I figured the easiest way was to use helium gas and a bag, but found it difficult to get any helium where I live so had to think of something else. I decided I would tape off my room with dust sheets and duct tape covering the windows, doors, and air vents and start a fire in a fire pit. The aim here was to kill myself with CO2, not fire, plus I live in a terraced house, and I’m suicidal, not a murderer, and so obviously didn’t want a fire to actually break out and possibly injure/kill others. It didn’t go to plan. I had more than enough wood, but something in me made me bail out, I should have got drunk first, but I didn’t want to start a fire, so thought my will power would get over the whole primal wanting to live thing. It didn’t.

Disgusted and disappointed with myself I dried taping a bag over my head. Again panic kicked in and I couldn’t go through with it.

Finally I tried hanging myself, however, being almost 6 and a half foot tall and weighing almost 20 stone, this was tricky, and I just ended up with a sore neck/throat.

The next day I got my friend to drive me to a big store to buy some helium, they didn’t have any and unfortunately my friend figured my plan out and got some other friends to try and talk me out of it. Eventually after about 5 hours I made them believe that they had talked me round and we went out and got drunk.

So today my wife came round and we had a good old chat and a cry and I told her that she would be better off without me and I wouldn’t do anything deemed “stupid”.

That brings me up to now, where I have read a lot on here, and am going to get a train to the nearest city tomorrow and buy about 5 canisters of helium, an oven bag and some elastic, rent a room in an hotel, text my wife goodbye and tell her she has to go home to look after the pets.

That is my story. Not an interesting one, but mine never the less.