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babasblossoms · 3 years

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And, on tonight’s transmission:

A classic episode of wanting to die but still having ties that bind on this earth!

I’ll be really honest here, I’ve been suicidal for most of my life (or, rather, what I remember of it which isn’t much). The period when it was at it’s very peak, I was too lethargic to even get out of the bed to go eat whatever was cooked in the house, so clearly I had no actual physical strength to go out in the woods and hang myself by my old school as I would have wanted to do at the time.

Nowadays, I’m not fortunate (of the unfortunate kind) enough to be that lethargic, and I’ve had mutliple occassions where I nearly killed myself but stopped because the only two reasons I have to keep on living popped into my head. My most recent was not that long ago, say it was about 2 weeks ago. I don’t actually remember.

I was outside and a truck was coming around the corner, one with a decent speed that was heavy enough to not stop in time should an emergency occur all of a sudden. I freezed and without really thinking anything, I threw myself in front of it. Of course, the driver saw me and realised he couldn’t make the truck stop in time, so he started swerving in an attempt to miss me.

I think the only thing that I felt at the moment was sheer fascination with the metal behemoth speeding towards me. Sadly, and gladly I suppose, I came back to my senses and ended up dashing away and to the other side of the street as if I were a feral animal disturbed from its meal or something.

It felt as if I was bigfoot getting spotted by a bunch of tourists. Funny, in retrospect.

I rambled, but it’s a little funny story I had that was kind of on topic.

The point of it was to, I guess, show to myself that sometimes these impulses take control of my body, and make it do things without the “me” inside of myself realising. The point of showing myself is to train my mind to try and take better hold of my body when such things happen, or are close to happening (but that’s assuming I’m in touch with my emotions to a sufficient degree to actually tell).

Funny part: I’m emotionally retarded. I can only truly feel extremes of emotions, meaning most feelings I may have or may have had if I wasn’t the “me” I am now aren’t strong enough for me to feel.

It’s as if the nerve between my body and my mind (not brain, but mind) has been severed, and left to regenerate by itself. Its functionality is clearly not as good as it used to be - it’s a sort of “all or nothing” system, as far as I can tell.

Only one thing makes me truly happy, and by happy I mean euphoric as if I’d taken Gods-know-what drug (can’t compare it to actual drugs since I’m not that experienced yet), but nowadays even that has started diminishing. It’s by no fault of anyone’s, I can’t force someone into anything, can I? It’d only hurt them, I’d rather avoid that, even if all I want to do is have a casual chat.

Nothing happened between us, we’re actually in a very good place with one another. Just that the mood on the other end is never right for talking these days. It’s no one’s fault.

Either way, as of tonight, I would have thrown myself out of my window headfirst had my window not been shut closed permanently. It has a plastic piece at the bottom blocking it, so it can’t be opened properly.

I’m not sure what prompts these urges. They’ve been constant, yes, but they have been getting worse for the past couple months yet again. I don’t think I’ve got bipolar or anything of the sort, I really don’t relate to the symptoms. I don’t want medication, the side effects of most meds turn you into a bloody legume, and I’d rather be dead than be a walking dead (haha, funny reference!).

I suppose it’s also partly loneliness. I feel pathetic admitting that to myself, but I really can’t just use the “I don’t need anyone!” cope, especially with my circumstances. Lying to myself is no way to go about it.

I’ve had urges to slit my wrists (what a hood classic, right?), although I haven’t acted on it. I will likely act on it if I am to live alone, which is in itself likely to happen relatively “soon”. I might abstain even then, if only not to worry a certain individual I care about.

I always thought that fire purifies, burning oneself is simply a ritual of purifying the soul completely.

If I am to kill myself, I’d rather burn to death - but that might not be possible, in which case I will opt for stabbing myself in the abdomen and ingesting a cocktail of Atropa Belladonna, Datura Stramonium, and Nerium (Oleanders) before doing the deed to my physical body, just to ensure I most definitely will not survive it.

All or nothing, after all.

I crave warmth which I lack without fault of anyone’s own. I have accepted the circumstances, yet I still writhe in pain. When I cry, I can’t help but claw at my own skin, it feels as if having a body is the most horrible thing I’ve done to date, and I’ve done many things which were horrible in this life.

It’s not just a lack of warmth. I have no official diagnosis, but I may very well be developing psychosis, even if I’m rather young. I don’t say this for pity, it’s just my way of labelling something which affects me severly. Sometimes, I walk along the streets, and if I do stop the street itself seems to elongate before my very eyes. Sometimes it breathes, and it copies the rhythm of my breathing, so I hold my breath and it goes back to it’s own breathing pattern before I start breathing again. That’s what happens usually, anyway.

There’s a lot more to it, but I won’t divulge it all in one blogpost. It doesn’t bother me much RIGHT NOW, so why should I? It’s upsetting, yes, but also hard to describe.

Whatever.

I’m lonely. I shouldn’t be, but I can’t bring myself to care for others which show me care, with the exception of one individual. I care about them most, I’d skin myself alive, or amputate my own limb before them, if asked to do so by them. I’d have no qualms with doing such things, but right now they’re not here.

I like talking (kind of, most people suck the energy out of me for whatever reason) but the one that I enjoy talking with (without even feeling exhausted, but actually even feeling good after) isn’t up to it right now, and I understand. I’m not placing the blame on anyone, there’s no point in doing that. I’m just here to rant about my silly little issues. Besides, that’d only serve to fuel my paranoia further. Why would I do that? It’s horrible enough as it is.

Ah man, what a ramble I’ve had.

I’m restless. Right now the alcohol is slightly mellowing me out. I think that if I were to get drunk, I’d seriously harm myself, so tipsy’ll do for now.

I still want to die, but I’m rational enough to not act on my urges. I’ve got reason to live, so I’ll keep doing so until that reason is removed, which I hope happens never.

However much I wish to die, I don’t wish for my soul to go through 9 circles of torment in order for that to become a viable option. It’s already been through about 2 circles, and if there’s worse I’d rather avoid it. I may be a masochist, but I don’t like trauma.

And so[...]

Transmission over, I suppose.

Doesn’t make much sense, but here we are. This could turn out to be better than a professional, who knows! I’m not optimistic, but I’m willing to try regardless.

Until next time, take care.

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