I’m not suicidal anymore.

I always said I would never attempt or self harm unless I knew for sure I would end up dead. But then the abuse got so bad I started hitting the sh*t out of my head hoping I would die by blunt force trauma. I was supposed to die in August 2012, yet I am still here today and I have no idea why. My case is kind of like, say there’s a jumper on San Francisco bridge who is completely ready to jump to his death but then some nasty hUman walks by and reports him before he can die. He’s never met the human that reported him before, that person plays no role in his life, but now he is forced to remain alive because of this strange freak randomly walking by as he was preparing to jump. I should be dead already. Every day I have to worry about how I can get back to the bridge edge.