note from reyday: no I am not killing myself. do not send me back to the psych ward.
I wake up every morning and stare at my ceiling and feel nothing but pure, sweet dread. A dread that lingers on your tongue, leaves a taste in your mouth that you just can’t get rid of.
I can try to wash it down with whatever I want, but it always comes back, a little bit stronger each time.
the same thoughts pollute my head every night. “slit your throat, bash your brains out, hang yourself from your ceiling fan.” a million violent, gruesome deaths that sound horrid but every instinct in that moment tells you just to commit to any one of them.
I do my best to push it down. I cry into my pillow, punch the wall, scream and yell and beg for attention, plead for help in any way I know how. but no one ever listens, so i take matters into my own hands.
sometimes I give into the urges in little ways.
I slit my left wrist with the sharpest pair of scissors I own. not my right, in the case that I injure myself too much, so I can still work. I hold my breath for as long as I can, telling myself I don’t deserve the oxygen, letting the warm air fill my mouth as my body tries to push it out by force. my lungs compress and my body gets tense as the seconds slowly tick by, before my body outweighs my consciousness and I finally let myself breathe again. I bash my head against my bedroom walls, not hard enough to cause any damage, but just hard enough so I can feel it and let the impact ring in a way where I can’t help but forget about anything else.
at times, this satisfies the urges, and I return to my regularly scheduled routine of pathetically waddling my way through life. at others, more drastic measures need to be taken.
at times, very seldom few, I approach my closet and grab something. anything long enough to work. belts are a go-to. I wrap it firmly around my neck, as tight as I can force it, and I just feel my face go numb and my body grow weak as relief washes over me. it feels overwhelming and uncomfortable and tight and tense, but freeing, like my worries are drained away with my consciousness. I feel my heart throbbing in my throat, my mouth moving and softly biting at the air around me, pathetic attempts to prevent the inevitable, before my hands give out or my body moves on its own and all of a sudden, I’m back. slightly dazed, but back.
and I press forward, my most valuable assets preserved so I may still be a functioning member of society in the meantime. as if nothing happens late at night when it all gets to be too much. as if one day I won’t take it too far and find myself unable to pull myself back.
but until then, I’m a coward.