March 4th, 2012

"Ten months to change your mind." That's what I said to my friend who wanted to kill herself and had ten more months membership left on the website we're both on and speak on. I meant it for her but now I realise it's applicable to me, too. I've wanted to be dead for quite some time now. To simply be dead for a year, maybe two. I've wanted to kill myself for less time than that. Maybe a year, maybe six months. The urge is so overwhelming. I compare every little detail in my life to having no life at all and the second option always wins. I just want to be gone. I don't want anything. I can't deal with anything and I'm constantly letting people down. Pressure. So much fucking pressure. Boiling, bubbling, reaching the surface. I feel so inadequate all the time. There's always something there to knock me back and that's life. I need to deal with it. But I'm not capable of dealing with anything. I just want to sleep and lose weight and cut and die. Sleep cut sleep cut sleep cut die. Lose weight lose weight low bmi low bmi. I'm so ugly and disgusting and I can't deal with facing myself in the mirror. I just want to be skinny and I want to have lots of scars and memories and blah blah blah no. I don't want, oh fuck sake. I just want to die. I'm too afraid of the intense pain at the end, though. If I had a gun, if I had something sure, something worthy that would kill me and assure I stay dead, I'd do it. I don't want a long fall to my death, a whole packet of pills I could vomit back up or a burning sensation. I want fast, sharp pain that'll be over the moment it hits my temple. I want this but I can't seem to make it happen. Uh, anyway. The "ten months to change your mind" plan was that I'd get my friend to write an entry every day or every week, occasionally, keeping track of things and noting down the positives. I give good advice but I seldom follow it. This is my version of "ten months to change your mind", though I'll need longer. I don't think anything will change my mind and I'll just be dead in the end but whatever, this is more or less enjoyable now. Therapeutic I guess. Idk. It's 11pm, school's tomorrow and I'm supposed to be in for three periods. I'm just going to spiral downwards. Why don't these fucking anti-depressants work.