I wonder if I am talking to myself.
I cannot remember a day when I have not thought about suicide. Someone wise stated that thoughts of this kind are solace, they get one through many a bad night.
Extraordinarily lonely. Have been unable to call out for help. Helium or pills? Both perhaps? Add some cutting and alcohol.
Oddly, I think I am amazing at concealing how I feel. I am exhausted. I would so, so, so love a hug.
Pathetic really.
Scared of a failing. Scared of panic. Can’t be bothered with the suicide note thing. Guess I am maturing. Dead silence.