So…

I cut myself pretty badly last weekend, did a bit of stabbing on my forearm and hit an artery. I panicked and called the suicide hotline who instructed me to call 911 because my arm was wrapped in a towel and bleeding a lot (maybe half a litre by the time I got help) . So I did. I had been drinking and things weren’t particularly clear and I picked up my knife and went to the park nearby where I told them I would be. I took the knife with me because I wanted to cut myself again at the hospital or I was going to brandish it and commit suicide by cop. I was still on the phone with the 911 operator sounding really panicked and she instructed me and calmed me down enough to put the knife down near the closest recycling bin and I did.

Well there I was… at the park at around 1 am. The cops show up behind me (I’m sitting at the park benches) and I hear a voice say put your hands up. So I do and glance behind my shoulder to see they have their weapons drawn which makes my heart almost beat out of my chest. That feeling where I know whatever action I take next is my ultimate decision. I could’ve went forward and got that knife and been shot. But I didn’t. But knowing that feeling that I hold my own fate was… beautiful. For once in a very long time my own life was in my hands…

So I end up in the hospital. Get stitched up and assessed and they think I’m okay to go home.. so I get a cab and go home. And here I am. Back on SP to share with you all. Just another day in my life until my inevitable end.