I keep trying to ignore how suicidal I feel. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I absolutely 100% know I don’t want to die and yet there is this constant internal monologue telling me that I do. But I don’t.
I fell asleep with dangerous ideas buzzing. I am so disgusting that sanding the skin off my arm seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea. I woke up in the early hours after upsetting dreams: me slicing through my arms with a knife but unable to control it; my parents hunting me in a library whilst my body lost control, desperate to injure itself. When I sat in the dark I wanted to cut my own throat…just a test…not to do anything. I sat there scared. Really fucking scared.
When I properly got up this morning I had a plan for the day and I stuck to it.
I took the bus to town…and closed my eyes as we drove over the bridge I imagine jumping off of.
I walked past the pharmacy I wanted to go into…because I was too scared about what I would buy if I went in.
I waited at the kerb as a truck rumbled past…and imagined myself falling under it.
It’s like this all the time at the minute. I’m terrified. Nora reassured me yesterday that I was handling these urges well. In summer I couldn’t stop myself but now I was taking control and staying safe.
But, but, but…help? How much longer can I stay safe. I’m petrified. It’s only going to take one thing and the fuck it switch will be flicked. Please please please, I do not want anything bad to happen. Please.
It’s down to me though. I am a responsible adult and, as such, I must take responsibility for my own actions. I understand that, I do, but I’m just so very frightened and, as usual, no one believes me.