I don’t understand

I don’t understand how I’m still alive. I honestly don’t. My last attempt wasn’t my first, it was my 16th, and I’m still not sure that it will be my last.

I would say I’m lost, but that would imply that I’m actually going somewhere; I’m not. I’m in this rut and I wish I knew how I got here, but I think it’s one of those things that creeps up on you.

So, seven weeks ago I jumped in front of a tube train. It wasn’t planned, I think I decided in about five minutes. I had previously thought about it, and I’ve been really close before, but I just couldn’t do it. It used to be a way to scare myself into living.

Before I jumped I remember crying, because it wasn’t that I wanted to be dead, I just couldn’t bring myself to keep on living with everything crashing down on top on me.

I lived, I jumped about a second before the train got to me, and somehow I missed almost everything and landed in the suicide pit below the tube. I crushed part of my hand and lost my little finger. I got the impression that it was a bit of a warning that I wouldn’t get so lucky next time.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t believe that people like me are supposed to live. I don’t understand how I keep surviving  attempts that would kill most people…

I’m sick, I know this, but I don’t think I’m ever going to get better. Why is it acceptable to put down a sick animal, but not a sick human? I wish someone would just put me down. Let it all end.