I just can’t quite do it. I’m so, so close. I’ve got everything ready, prepared in a bag. I just have to go to a hotel and do it. It’s completely safe for everyone else, just a peaceful death. But I can’t get over that final hurdle. God this is so hard. Living is hell but dying is still so difficult, or rather, killing myself is still so hard to do.
I don’t even know what I’m asking for. Just some kind of help to get me over this last obstacle and not suffer anymore.
I managed to buy the barbiturates I need to kill myself. I’ve researched this a lot. You’ll see if you check my other comments.
You can only get them in places like the country I’m now in.
I just need to overcome that final hurdle and take them. I hope I manage it soon.
Life is like a psychotic, abusive partner. It’ll use any trick, any guilt trip, anything it can to stop you killing yourself. But killing myself is the only way I can escape the nightmare which is living.
I won’t leave this country alive.
I’ve found the holy grail of suicide methods, as it is apparently called. Painless, quick, easy. Only hard part is of course that you can’t get hold of it anywhere in the developed world. But now I know where to get it and I’m going there in a month. I just don’t know if I can go through with it. I imagine how devastated my mother would be and it makes it extremely difficult.
I’ve thought about what I would leave in a message to her and I think it would be like this: She always said she wanted the best for me and the truth, […]
I do not understand, at all, what people enjoy about going out “partying”. It stinks of shit, cigarette smoke, stale alcohol, urine, sweat and garbage, it’s fucking loud, as in so FUCKING loud that you’ll go deaf and you have to scream in each other’s ears to be heard, it’s expensive, a rip off, a con, and you’re supposed to get drunk, and if you don’t drink you’re a fucking loser. And obviously – OBVIOUSLY – I can’t fucking dance so that’s hopeless as well.
And then to ‘cap the night off’ there’s some sort of obligatory purchase of a street food item, usually a fried […]
I hate myself, because I can’t just enjoy myself and be happy. I am conditioned this way, to feel sad. Changing is fucking hard. It’s not some simple act of will. People who aren’t down, depressed, whatever you call it, are so fucking clueless. They think it’s all your own fucking fault. It’s like someone breaking their arm and another person asking what their problem is – why can’t you use it anymore? What’s wrong with you? It’s not so god damn simple.
I wish I could just be happier. My life is ridiculously “good”. I have come to realize that another person in my place […]
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