My suicide had been two years in the making when I decided not to follow through at the last minute.
Over the past decade, I've written poems, books, short stories, fanfiction and hundreds of thousands of words, but nothing felt complete. This coll...
The weather mirrors my mood perfectly and tempts One to go rain-drudging like the sad, asymmetrical pancake One is.
Been wearing my corset every day since the 25th. Not for any reason other than that the sensation of having my organs constricted helps keep things together mentally too. Not today though, I've donned my Hokusai socks. Making tamagoyaki don for my girls tonight. Love language at its tastiest.
The great thing about not forming attachments easily is that when they do form, I can let go just as fast —I told the girls yesterday. But as I waved at some cows, trying not to cry, I contemplated whether that was true. Right after, I did my ancient herding call and the cows hobbled over, all head-titling and curious. Fucking love cows. Looking at them always fills me with guilt. Like, you're so gentle and kind and I eat you.
Also—literally ten minutes later, I was back to walking and minding my business, when this prepubescent child on a fat-bike drove past and made a spanking gesture at me?? Really, truly had to stop myself from demanding he hand over his phone so I could call his mother. It threw me off so much I forgot I was sad for a minute.
I have high-functioning depression so I'm still able to manage daily life despite being at rock bottom. When I'm laughing and joking about, I'm doing so with frankness. I'm letting myself forget for a while. This is what happens when you've been depressed since you were thirteen. I have a sunny disposition, and I'll always act the clown to lighten the mood, but clowns can get depressed too. Cheerfulness and sadness can coexist without cancelling each other out. The latter also offers an explanation for something people have been asking: "How could you enjoy Scotland while intending to die?" Don't want to say carpe diem but carpe diem.
Whilst talking to my mum on Monday, she said, "I don't understand, you were such a happy child," and I showed her this tweet:
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What else is a girl to do but romanticise her own mental turmoil...? Die? We've been over this, babe.
Honestly, part of me wants to get hit by lightning and survive, just to know with certainty I have a right to be here—that I'm not just making things worse for everyone for the hell of it. All my jewellery is solid silver, so I should be fine.
I've never really needed people. Sure, I'll ask for help and express myself if it eases everyone's worries, but I hate relying on them. I like solving my own issues. Could I handle this alone? Yes. Do I want to? Absolutely. Will I? No—because I never want to see my parents, my brother, or my best friends crying over me again. Friday marked the starting line of pivotal change.
I'm doing and saying whatever it takes to make them feel reassured, and without any pretence either—no more masking when it's not socially necessary. I'll do anything to regain the trust I've damaged. It's been humiliating and exhausting, and I never thought I could feel worse now than I did in the days leading up to the 25th—but I do and it's 100% worth it. The last thing I want is for my loved ones to feel like I'm taking them for granted, because I count my lucky stars every hour that these brilliant, beautiful people somehow made space for me in their hearts. The hands around my throat are my own. Everything currently wrong is no one's fault but mine.
