This is the worst I’ve been in a really long time. Suicide is looking like the only option left but I can’t seem to focus enough to think up how to go about it. I’m terrified that if I don’t manage to succeed, I’ll just end up back in that hellhole “hospital” and unfortunately, it’s the thought of that happening more than any other that keeps me from going through with anything. I repeat; I WILL NOT GO BACK THERE. I kind of thought about how I’d handle that but it would involve suicide by cop and I don’t want someone else to blame themselves for carrying out what I can’t finish on my own. (Cops show up when a suicide attempt is called in. If I went for an officer’s gun, they’d use deadly force to stop me getting the gun.) The practical part of my brain is telling me that I need to make sure that I have “my affairs” in order but I lack the energy to do that. So I’m just kind of here. Thinking and trapped in my own head, immobilized. Writing kind of helps but I can’t just write nonstop.
Basically, I’m being kept alive by being a failure. Nice. Too lazy to write a will and not focused enough to make any sort of viable plan. I’m reasonably certain that nobody would care one way or the other so considering the impact on other people isn’t a factor, it’s the practicalities that are stopping me. If I mattered, I wouldn’t be invisible. The only time people speak to me is at work for work-related things. All of my emails are advertisements, the only texts I get are connected to my bank account, and Twitter is pretty much me just shouting into a void. Why the hell would I think that I matter, taking all this into account?
One part from that damned “13 Reasons Why” book just keeps looping in my head: “I think I’ve made myself very clear, but no one’s stepping forward to stop me. A lot of you cared, just not enough. And right…that is what I needed to find out. And I did find out. And I am sorry.”
I’m not rereading that book right now. Hell no. Even if I were, I couldn’t stay focused on it. Reading is usually my go-to to distract myself when I get really bad like this and it’s not working this time. That should bother me. It doesn’t. I just don’t care. That’s probably why I can understand how nobody else cares, either.