March 16, 2021. Tuesday.
I’m still here. Pay no attention to the piece of shit behind the curtain.
BEFORE YOU READ THIS KNOW THAT I CHICKENED OUT AT THE LAST MOMENT. DONT PANIC.
I’m still knocking about wasting air and getting on everyone’s nerves.
This is the second time I’ve opened this diary to write a suicide note.
I’m probably just looking for attention. I don’t know. I just don’t fit in with this world man. Nothing I do works, nothing I do succeeds. Nothing I do even moves me forward. Nothing I do motivates me. Nothing I want to do gets done. I just keep taking one step forward and one step back. Things aren’t getting any worse but they’re not getting any better either.
I’d go into it but I don’t even care to write anymore. I’m too burned out to code too. Everything I am even remotely good at has just.. stopped working.
I’m probably not going to kill myself, this is probably just a bad mood. Trying to get some attention. I don’t feel like I’m in a bad mood. I’ll feel stupid in a few hours.
I’m not even feeling depressed anymore, it just sort of feels like something I need to do.
I went on a nice walk yesterday. I found a duck pond.
Like it’s just a task on a todo list that needs checking off.
There was a nice stream.
I’m surrounded by people. You don’t need to get involved. It’s nobody’s fault but my own.
Found someone’s gravel watering machine.
I can’t even afford to eat never mind OD on anything. Nothing to worry about.
If you don’t hear from me in like a week, make your assumptions.
I was trying my best. It wasn’t good enough.
I almost went for it that time. Feeling pretty stupid, as predicted. As usual.
Told my boss I’m taking the rest of the week off. I’m in a bit of shock as to how easy it would have been. One shove of the blade and no more updates. No more responsibilities. No more work. No more stress. No more debt. No more loneliness.
I can’t get rid of me that easily though. Picturing the blade slicing into the artery.. imagine feeling it.. seeing all the blood piss out of my neck (Outside in the woods somewhere, I’m not that much of a dick to do it at home). The panic as morbid dread sets in when my blood pressure drops too low for my heart to pump properly.. then nothing.
Too graphic. Too messy.
What a rush.
I’m upping the citalopram. I’ll tell the doc about it tomorrow.
Swear to god it wasn’t this nice of a day before. I’m hearing every individual bird call. Feeling the warmth of the sun every time it pokes out from behind the clouds. The lick of the fresh air as a breeze rolls through my room.
It’s not all that bad. Man that was almost dumb.
Enough time has passed it sort of feels like I was doing it for the attention but like.. who’s attention? You’d have seen this tomorrow morning either way.
Seems silly now. I mean it was silly but I mean I only feel silly now. No sadness, no depression, no anxiety. Just feel a bit.. idk.. the emotional version of picturing a sad clown? Pathetic? Dunno.
Something like that.
The reality of it all has started crashing in. I wouldn’t have responded to mum asking for advice on her new YouTube channel. My boss would have taken all the blame onto himself due to a conversation earlier. Fox would have wondered if the deleted message was something he could have responded to.
Everyone I know online would have thought I just ghosted them (I mean, technically.. not the time for jokes)
Man, I am such an arsehole. Sort of prick does that to someone?
Fuck me, I didn’t cry at dad’s funeral but the thought of not responding to mum asking for my advice on a youtube channel has me in bits every time I reread the sentence.
I keep flop flopping between keeping this published or not. Its quite a private thing really, but I’m ok with sharing it. My main concern is that nobody will touch me with a 10ft pole knowing my mind is a bit on the self destructive side.
On the other hand I’d have to delete this entire site to avoid someone thinking I’m a bit weird. I dunno.
Honestly seems silly to care about now. Considering the way this day was going I’d have already begun decomposing by now if I’d not made myself squeamish overthinking it. Bit morbid.
I had a cry earlier, thats what I meant by in bits by the way, first time in about 10 years. I need to do that more often, like garbage collection for the soul.
I know what I should do. I should get in touch with these therapy folks and give them an update. I should tell my doctor that I need to bump up the citalopram for a bit.
I am scared that if I tell anyone medical they’ll be obliged to cart me off and lock me in a padded cell. Isolation is bad enough even with the ability to go out for a walk.
I will let them know, but give it a week or so till we’re back in the normalcy and I can look back on this and laugh. Still feeling a bit delicate (daft).
In positives with a bit of pushing by Fox I’ve started conversations with my banks to see what we can do financially. I’ve also got some food in, also courtesy of the Foxes. They’re good people.
Gonna have to put things on an upward turn. Up is easy enough from where I was at midday.
Easy goal to get me started:
tomorrow > today, repeat