Bikishii
yeah yeah whatever
- Mar 12, 2026
- 88
Whenever I have to ride the train, I always look at the track in front and see just how fast the train is going and see if I would have enough time to jump down before the conductor/engineer/whatever could stop. They don't deserve that trauma, nor do the people on the train nor at the station, but it's like my brain is always looking for a way out.
Especially since the pigs took my gun after my failed suicide attempt back in June, I'm scared that I don't have any immediate "quiet pills" to get me out of a tough situation and all I have are pills I've compounded to be nice and deadly. Even then, sure, I'd be putting the paramedics and cops through seeing a dead body, but eh, I wouldn't be the first nor the last.
If I think logically, it's not like I'm the scum of the earth, I'm not the worst person in the fucking world, blah blah blah. But I don't know why I was given the "gift" of life. I don't know for what I was born. I don't know what I contribute to the earth. Do I need to contribute anything to be worthy of being alive? I dunno, maybe not. But regardless, I don't know how much I can keep going on. This shit sucks, dude, and I just don't know how much I can take it anymore. I'm so glad I have things on hand like my compounded "goodbye pills" (that formal education is finally coming in handy for once) and my CO generators and my kajillion benzos (thanks psychiatrist whose pockets are lined with big pharma's money) but fuck, even though I never planned to use my gun as my way out, it was always an option. And, considering I don't exactly live in the safest part of the world, the fact that now the best I have to protect myself with either out and about or a home invasion is a knife and/or pepper spray, that's fucked. But whatever.
Idk if I want to die, that's a strong feeling, one I felt back in June. But fuck me man, I sure as hell don't want to live. So even when I'm at some of my healthiest, I still look at things like train tracks, looking to see if I'm in a building high up enough to kill me if I jumped off, seeing if I could still drive up the mountains far enough to drink and drug myself to death, hopefully passing out before I tumble down a cliff. Any autopsy would she the drugs in my system, and my demeanor the past few months would make it obvious that it was a suicide, but hopefully it'd be seen more like an accident. A retarded accident from a retarded woman who decided to get herself a little too fucked up on the mountainside and *whoopsy daisy* happened to fall kilometers down the face of the mountain. Those closest to me would know, but they could at least play it off as if it wasn't a suicide. It would still be shameful, even though I don't have a deviant history of drug abuse or anything that shit is rampant in my family so maybe it would still be shameful ("ugh, yet another one lost to drugs and dumb mistakes... what a dumbfuck") but I guess that's at least less shameful to admit that this would be probably the fifth suicide in the past 25 years on both sides of the family.
Sorry guys. I had a few glasses to drink and I had a crash out on a non-English streaming site a few hours ago and am feeling like such a fucking idiot. That, and I haven't been on here in a while. In way too long. I hope you all are having a better night than I am right now, and I'm really wishing peace upon all of you no matter how happy or sad, how ecstatic or despondent you may be at this moment.
Like, I wouldn't want to be the one to jump in front of the train or stand in the middle of the highway at 02:00 or something. But sometimes I fantasize about the bus driver fucking up and accidentally jumping the curb and mowing me down that way I'd be dead (hopefully) fast and it would just unequivocally be some awful accident instead of a suicide. Hell, I might not even know. Maybe I'll just be looking down at my phone and then *BAM* I'm dead and... well, wherever we do or don't go when we die.
Especially since the pigs took my gun after my failed suicide attempt back in June, I'm scared that I don't have any immediate "quiet pills" to get me out of a tough situation and all I have are pills I've compounded to be nice and deadly. Even then, sure, I'd be putting the paramedics and cops through seeing a dead body, but eh, I wouldn't be the first nor the last.
If I think logically, it's not like I'm the scum of the earth, I'm not the worst person in the fucking world, blah blah blah. But I don't know why I was given the "gift" of life. I don't know for what I was born. I don't know what I contribute to the earth. Do I need to contribute anything to be worthy of being alive? I dunno, maybe not. But regardless, I don't know how much I can keep going on. This shit sucks, dude, and I just don't know how much I can take it anymore. I'm so glad I have things on hand like my compounded "goodbye pills" (that formal education is finally coming in handy for once) and my CO generators and my kajillion benzos (thanks psychiatrist whose pockets are lined with big pharma's money) but fuck, even though I never planned to use my gun as my way out, it was always an option. And, considering I don't exactly live in the safest part of the world, the fact that now the best I have to protect myself with either out and about or a home invasion is a knife and/or pepper spray, that's fucked. But whatever.
Idk if I want to die, that's a strong feeling, one I felt back in June. But fuck me man, I sure as hell don't want to live. So even when I'm at some of my healthiest, I still look at things like train tracks, looking to see if I'm in a building high up enough to kill me if I jumped off, seeing if I could still drive up the mountains far enough to drink and drug myself to death, hopefully passing out before I tumble down a cliff. Any autopsy would she the drugs in my system, and my demeanor the past few months would make it obvious that it was a suicide, but hopefully it'd be seen more like an accident. A retarded accident from a retarded woman who decided to get herself a little too fucked up on the mountainside and *whoopsy daisy* happened to fall kilometers down the face of the mountain. Those closest to me would know, but they could at least play it off as if it wasn't a suicide. It would still be shameful, even though I don't have a deviant history of drug abuse or anything that shit is rampant in my family so maybe it would still be shameful ("ugh, yet another one lost to drugs and dumb mistakes... what a dumbfuck") but I guess that's at least less shameful to admit that this would be probably the fifth suicide in the past 25 years on both sides of the family.
Sorry guys. I had a few glasses to drink and I had a crash out on a non-English streaming site a few hours ago and am feeling like such a fucking idiot. That, and I haven't been on here in a while. In way too long. I hope you all are having a better night than I am right now, and I'm really wishing peace upon all of you no matter how happy or sad, how ecstatic or despondent you may be at this moment.
Like, I wouldn't want to be the one to jump in front of the train or stand in the middle of the highway at 02:00 or something. But sometimes I fantasize about the bus driver fucking up and accidentally jumping the curb and mowing me down that way I'd be dead (hopefully) fast and it would just unequivocally be some awful accident instead of a suicide. Hell, I might not even know. Maybe I'll just be looking down at my phone and then *BAM* I'm dead and... well, wherever we do or don't go when we die.
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