It’s the first. I’ve said it before, but winter time has that odd feeling about it. The feeling that everything around you is dying and decaying. Just the air feels different. It get dark around 4:30 where I’m at. So everytime I walk home, it’s dark, cold, and decaying. If there was ever a time I would choose to end my life, it would be in the winter.
I’ve got 2 weeks left. Behind on damn near everything. Don’t know if I’ll make it. I got all As last semester, but failing one course is all it takes to get me kicked out. I’m panicked, but accepting as well. Whatever happens happens. I’ll try, as pathetic and lazy as I am. But I’ll try. Evertime I think I’ve got the hang of this, I always end up being proven wrong. It’s a bit irksome. I know it takes time, but at some point you’ve got to learn to hit the ground running. I think I got real comfortable in my undergrad around maybe my 3rd year. Maybe. I’ve only got one year left after this. My mind still weakly thinks about going for a Phd. I think the things they are doing here are great. I really do. I’d like to be apart of it. But at some point you got to know when some things are beyond you. I was so anxious and so nervous about even applying and accepting grad school. I was scared that I’d fail, like I always do. But that one little thread in my mind kept me going. That sliver of hope. But with a Phd. There is no sliver. I know I can’t get one. I know. So why do I have that little voice tell me to do it anyways?
I met my Psychiatist today. It was an ok. I talked to him plainly. He said I sounded good. I told him the truth about how I feel alone but it doesn’t particularly bother me. That I’m unsure I even want people around me. He was curious if I “wanted” friends and relationships because that was the expectation or if it was a genuine desire. I told him I simply do not know. Part of me wants friends. To be loved. But another part of me just finds it so foriegn. So odd. Ofcourse I didn’t tell him I think about killing myself occasionaly. To be fair, it was more of a half truth. I think about killing myself, but it’s more like musing instead of actual consideration. It’s kind of always been that way since I was a teen. Sometimes things do get bad and the thoughts become more serious. But most of the times it’s just musings. Plus I didn’t really feel like dealing with him asking more quetions about that.
I did make that promise that I’d kill myself on my 25th if I hadn’t made anything of myself by then. If I couldn’t find one thing I was proud of. To be honest, I still don’t meet the criteria. But I’m not going to kill myself anytime soon. Just another broken promise I guess. But for the sake of a hypothetical, how would I do it? Well I’d be back home. The day would probably be spent with my family to celebrate my birthday. Maybe just a lunch. The party would happen the day before on the 17th because that’s also my brother’s birthday and we usually share a party. I’d have to figure out a way to seperate myself from my family, which wouldn’t be hard, while simultanously get my dad’s gun. I’d probably drive off somewhere remote like an empty highway and do the deed. I’m not going out any other way. Knives are painful and bleeding to death seems no fun. Hanging isn’t an option for the same reason plus I’d be in the house. ODing on meds seems like a hassle. So a gun it would have to be. Knowing my luck I’d probably fuck it up and just end up crippled for life with a tramatic brain injury. But like I said, I’m not going to do anything.