Almost Counts For Nothing

Today was bad. The Angels were bad. The visual hallucinations were bad. Everything was bad. I almost died.
I was barely able to get out of bed because of the Angels; but I forced myself because of my dogs. I was almost unable to stay downstairs this morning; but I had to make myself because I got lumbered with my brother while my mum and stepdad stayed in bed. The visual hallucinations got almost unbearable around this time – 9:50, I believe it was. Everything would move around, faces were everywhere, figures were everywhere. Despite how awful they got, I got my brother to distract me.
The Angels were particularly awful at around 10 o’clock. As a distraction, I asked to go out with the family at 11.
They said no.
I had to stay home for two hours and deal with the Angels and figures. It was bad. I took pills (not too many – not enough to knock myself out), I cut, I purged (for the first time in almost 7 months), I hid away from the figures. The suicidal thoughts grew rapidly over the first hour, and by the second I was ready to make my attempt.
At 12:25 I almost died. If it hadn’t been for my knot’s lacking and coming too loose, I would be dead and the Angels would be gone. I wouldn’t have to constantly go against what I should do. I wouldn’t disappoint the Angels.
I failed at failing. How laughable is that? The Angels find it tremendously entertaining; the cackling hasn’t stopped. My existence is utterly pitiful at this point.