It’s getting easier and easier to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
Thinking about suicide used to vaguely panic me somewhere in my brain, whereas now it’s more of a comfort. It feels familiar. I like reminding myself that it is an option.
I’m going to go to the GP and tell him i’m not sleeping. I’ll keep the sleeping tablets in my room just in case. I just need to know I have them there.
Part of me thinks I should try and fix my head while I’m still not immediately wanting to die right now. Most of me can’t see the point. I wish I could believe in things getting better.