Redandpurple

Thank you for finding me on Relate. To be truthful I had abandoned that a long time ago- antidepressants (specifically setraline/Zoloft) has turned my life around, but for the time being I cannot be without it.

How are you? Are you still at York? I’m glad you’re still alive. I feel so half assed that you had remembered me even though I’d left and thrown myself into a new life. I’ve actually left on a concession at Durham and they’ll let me back in maybe this year, or next year- a two year grant on medical reasons.

What’s been going on in your life? I hope to […]

Death dark cold and dreary
Bring me into your cold embrace
For I am a creature of warmth and yet I am burned
To the flesh and to the bone
Sooth me oh death
Decay my sorrows and drain out my blood
For life has hurt me
Do not consider me uncouth
For I love you both life and death
But life burns me and you will cool me to the marrow
You make life beautiful and you are the unsung hero
I wait for you oh death
It is at the moment when
You wipe all the colours from my eyes and when
You […]

https://spectrumblog10.wordpress.com/

–

This is because I’m no longer suicidal.

The itch to write still remains.

I itch to connect with other humans through words.

One day I woke up and Zoloft/setraline has worked its magic.

I woke up and I felt like a real person with real feelings. Being alive was good.

It still is.

It’s a little too late, though. I will have to do first year again come fall. Wish me luck.

Thank you for being here when I needed you the most, SP.

In the end though, it was reaching out in real life that was the real turning point.

But thank you again. How are you all?

Today is my 5th day of taking Zoloft.

–

We are dots of experience on a grid grating by on time. Time connects these dots together, gives us unique form.

We think we are special. We lie sprawling across the platform of life, confident in the knowledge that each of our dots is placed on an irreplaceable coordinate. Our form is by itself unique.

Our form is by nature of time and experience uniquely confined. We lie sprawling on our own across the platform of life and realise that we are limited, and therefore, alone.

We search for order. Stories, equations, coordinates to give order in the great great grid […]

a little Valentines moment.

PS I’m single.

https://suicideproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/Winter.mp3

Aspire, you said.

Aspire to what?

Being an autonomous human being with dreams and a satisfying, lucrative career?

Here’s the thing. I cannot be autonomous. If I were truly autonomous, I would have killed myself already. The only thing stopping me is the thought of family discovering my dead body and being severely traumatised. That would be severely selfish of me. It would be almost evil for me to inflict the kind of pain that I know they will feel.

It goes against the grain of my being a human being.

That is why this is a paradox. A complete paradox. I cannot see a way out.

–

I cannot be happy. […]

I can’t cope. I’m shit at coping.

If I’m already struggling as a dependent young person, life is just going to get worse. Everyone knows it. Life only gets harder. Don’t tell me about it getting better internally because I know what I’m made of and I’m not made for this.

Shouldn’t letting me die and not live be a viable choice of journey in life? Dying as a premature ending to Life, this great play with scripts and cues destined to end anyway?

Give me a choice now, since I didn’t get a choice in coming to the world. Give me a choice to leave.

It’s only fair […]

A release.

I got on a call with the Samaritans with a person I have never met, don’t even know the name of.

God, all those feelings I had never voiced during the impossibly long- years it seems- months I was cooped up in this room, isolated, far from a soul I could love and trust, released themselves.

I poured out every single feeling of guilt, hopelessness, terror, awful sadness over the phone and she listened while I

heaved and sobbed and gasped and cried out and hyperventilated

to a stranger

articulated every single feeling that I am a loser, an imposer, a con person, a moron, an undeserving, self harming

absolute […]

that I give myself with a saw-edged knife.

Oops, just a papercut.

Happens when you’re sorting through piles of paper for academic purposes.

Haha fuck no the idea that I’m even working at all? Fucking ridiculous.

These little papercuts.

It’s so wonderful, the moment when I saw back and forth and press gently on the knife onto my hand, I realise I’m just a piece of meat. Bag of saline. Skeleton.

The red line is very beautiful.

–

You see, I don’t want to study. Or work.

I’m alive for no reason.

It confounds me.

Seeing blood gives me a sense of equilibrium.

It stops the uncontrollable crying.

I woke up today at 2pm and knew that my mind was not the same as yesterday.

The suicidal personality is gone, replaced with another dismal personality.

She is me at 15\16 years old. Two years make a big difference, but I still recognise her.

She looks in the mirror and sees a young woman. Why, wasn’t she just a girl? Why has this body been trained to put on makeup? How are the hands so still, so skilled, so fine tuned at motor control?

Pleasant surprises, a little unfathomable, but here she is in this older body.

She is aware of things behind her. Uncertainty looms at her spine, […]

I’ve been researching again and according to the website lostallhope’s chart, carbon monoxide has a 70% lethality rate.

4 years ago, my dad and I stumbled across a news article about a woman who committed suicide through carbon monoxide. She went to a holiday home for the weekend and took a child with her. Both were dead when found. She wanted to die and killed her own child too. The child had no clue what was going to happen.

“People who die by gas look beautiful when they’re found. Their cheeks become flushed and ruddy. Almost healthy.” Dad told me.

I still remember what he said, years later.

–

It’s not […]

She was a close friend.

She was a daughter.

She was an acquaintance.

She was a classmate.

She was a relative.

She was dearly beloved, often quiet, cerebral, musical, linguistic, sweet, with delicate eyes, an achingly small mouth and a wide nose.

We miss her dearly.

How we wished we’d known, that we could have helped her and prevented her from ending her life at 18.

We miss her- her life had barely begun.

We cry.

For what could have been.

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What could have been?

A few more drawn out years of internal suffering, untold emotional agony, more take-it-for-granted, more draining everyone who cares for a lost cause.

You told me so- life is only going to get […]

I’d like to talk about the various ways in which I want to exit this life, but really, realistically, they’re not going to work in the way I want them to. The most effective methods are not accessible to me and will not be unless I go to great lengths.

So hi there, SP. I’m still stuck in life.

I’m still a reasonably functioning organism on Earth who has no idea what she’s doing and, despite the knowledge that readily available methods will not work for her, still holds the belief that she deserves to die and that nonexistence is bliss.

I think: Who the fuck do I […]

I live for days like these.

A sapphire blue sky marbled through with soft marshmallow streaks of cloud.

An ancient crossing surrounded by golden trees, lying on a peaceful stretch of shining river.

The sun in all its glorious expanse.

The beauty of […]

What a nice little surprise we have here, hacker.

Found Damien Rice, promptly fell in love and immediately made this layered recording in half an hour

Look into my eyes and see that no one will harm you

Close your tired eyes, so wet from crying

Close your tired eyes

you will feel that you

belong.

https://suicideproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/My-Song-16.m4a

And so it is

Just like you said it would be

(I put my heart into this one, but I wasn’t getting along with Aadd9 and Badd11 very well.)

https://suicideproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/The-blowers-daughter.mp3