Not that I think ending my life or suicide is not my thing, I talk to my therapist about it, every time I change therapist I talk about it. They don't take me seriously, I guess because I'm a failure in what suicide methods refers to, when I was seventeen I started to stuff boxes of pills and went to sleep, woke up vomiting something like blood, then at the age of twenty-one I hung up but didn't know that the less height more time you had to wait and I started to vomit while I was hanging, blood came out from my nose, my veins exploded around my eyes and I approached the ladder I had separated
Someone called the police, then my parents who were disappointed with me and for the money invested and wasted in therapy...and well, that's how I guess we are.
This idea never went away especially since my grandfather died, since I started to consume and now a year ago I stopped after almost ten years, it was a shock to see that he was no longer there, that my sister was no longer at home and my parents were already older, I was not so "conscious". Lately I always told the psychologist, that since the last outbreak he gave me before stopping consuming I was already doubting what was real and what wasn't. One of the times I became blind, I couldn't see but according to the people around me I kept talking but I wasn't myself (I know I said it) and I saw people's faces in my head as if it were a thick slime like a snail, and a narrator saying we were just tongues. All very strange. It's true that I try not to think about it but since I got out of there I feel that a long time has passed, many years, sometimes I did not feel parts of the body. This I could only talk about in therapy. Because I lost many friends. My partner at that time also had the same addiction as me. When I told him that sometimes I wanted to die because of the way he was looking at me, he said it was okay with him not thinking about sad things.Sometimes I think about how selfish I am to think of wanting to kill myself but remember how I almost died two years ago without wanting in front of a family member, for my addiction and he didn't know it, we started arguing and I hallucinated and I passed out, I ran out of air and broke my leg, called my mother who was out and she put a spoon in my mouth because she said I was convulsing and thought it was epilepsy, also put me aside and called the ambulance, I do not know how long I was like that, but it was the happiest time of my life. I do not know if people when they die see their ideal of heaven, but my ideal must be nothing, because nothing is what I deserve.
For selfish and bad person, I don't say it out of compassion or something like that, because it's what I think, I hate to go to therapy and be told shit words.
Someone called the police, then my parents who were disappointed with me and for the money invested and wasted in therapy...and well, that's how I guess we are.
This idea never went away especially since my grandfather died, since I started to consume and now a year ago I stopped after almost ten years, it was a shock to see that he was no longer there, that my sister was no longer at home and my parents were already older, I was not so "conscious". Lately I always told the psychologist, that since the last outbreak he gave me before stopping consuming I was already doubting what was real and what wasn't. One of the times I became blind, I couldn't see but according to the people around me I kept talking but I wasn't myself (I know I said it) and I saw people's faces in my head as if it were a thick slime like a snail, and a narrator saying we were just tongues. All very strange. It's true that I try not to think about it but since I got out of there I feel that a long time has passed, many years, sometimes I did not feel parts of the body. This I could only talk about in therapy. Because I lost many friends. My partner at that time also had the same addiction as me. When I told him that sometimes I wanted to die because of the way he was looking at me, he said it was okay with him not thinking about sad things.Sometimes I think about how selfish I am to think of wanting to kill myself but remember how I almost died two years ago without wanting in front of a family member, for my addiction and he didn't know it, we started arguing and I hallucinated and I passed out, I ran out of air and broke my leg, called my mother who was out and she put a spoon in my mouth because she said I was convulsing and thought it was epilepsy, also put me aside and called the ambulance, I do not know how long I was like that, but it was the happiest time of my life. I do not know if people when they die see their ideal of heaven, but my ideal must be nothing, because nothing is what I deserve.
For selfish and bad person, I don't say it out of compassion or something like that, because it's what I think, I hate to go to therapy and be told shit words.
