Pennyroyal
Per aspera ad astra
- Jan 24, 2025
- 13
Honestly speaking I often feel very nervous and anxious when sharing my thoughts in public (and also Internet). But since I have decided to ctb this April, I just want to write something about my relationship with death/suicide.
Kinda of like a way to review my pathetic life? lol
Suicide has been like a shadow companion since my middle school. Sometimes it's very quiet, only stabbing me when I see a tall building, a knife or the train, inspiring some associations about death, "This building is not tall enough to jump off and die", "Cutting is the least successful way because the arteries of the human body are hidden in a very deep place and the brain gets its own ideas when you do it", and so on. Sometimes it was so noisy and loud that all my thoughts and ideas were related to death.
I had my first attempt at 15 but being caught by my mom in the middle of the way. And my mom just screaming and yelling and crying in front of me, saying that my eating disorder, my mental health issue, everything everything I have done just ruined the whole family. I stood there and apologized after she calmed down.
And well, after that there was a time period when everything went relatively smoothly. I ran away, lived with my best friend, and prepared for college entrance exam. Being able to breathe, not wanting to die that much - of course! Doesn't mean I don't want to die, it just I am having more concerns.
Fear of pain for one thing, not having the luxury of being alone for another, and I don't want my grimy body (hanging, jumping from high building and lying on tracks would make the bodies look horrific…) traumatizes innocent people, especially my best friend. I have the right to make decisions about my life and body, but shouldn't let my decisions hurt others.
Ignore the anxiety and depression and painful breakdowns of the past few years of living in another country, now I can calmly start buying what I need in the moment, writing my plan, and thinking about how to say goodbye feels more or less like due to the relationship with death and suicide that I've carried out over the past few decades.
Suicide doesn't mean I don't love the world, or that my life is full of regret and misery and a mess. By no means! I've met lots of kind people, traveled to lots of places, ate lots of good food, watched lots of good movies and shows, I've been creative, written, drawn, made crafts, and last year I even created my oc. Even up to the moments of typing these words, I still have some things I want to do and promise made with friends in the past.
But, phew, it is a great journey but I think maybe it is the time for me to get off.
Oh I hope there can a separate post each time I replied…but nvm I think I will just continue talking to myself.
Kinda of like a way to review my pathetic life? lol
Suicide has been like a shadow companion since my middle school. Sometimes it's very quiet, only stabbing me when I see a tall building, a knife or the train, inspiring some associations about death, "This building is not tall enough to jump off and die", "Cutting is the least successful way because the arteries of the human body are hidden in a very deep place and the brain gets its own ideas when you do it", and so on. Sometimes it was so noisy and loud that all my thoughts and ideas were related to death.
I had my first attempt at 15 but being caught by my mom in the middle of the way. And my mom just screaming and yelling and crying in front of me, saying that my eating disorder, my mental health issue, everything everything I have done just ruined the whole family. I stood there and apologized after she calmed down.
And well, after that there was a time period when everything went relatively smoothly. I ran away, lived with my best friend, and prepared for college entrance exam. Being able to breathe, not wanting to die that much - of course! Doesn't mean I don't want to die, it just I am having more concerns.
Fear of pain for one thing, not having the luxury of being alone for another, and I don't want my grimy body (hanging, jumping from high building and lying on tracks would make the bodies look horrific…) traumatizes innocent people, especially my best friend. I have the right to make decisions about my life and body, but shouldn't let my decisions hurt others.
Ignore the anxiety and depression and painful breakdowns of the past few years of living in another country, now I can calmly start buying what I need in the moment, writing my plan, and thinking about how to say goodbye feels more or less like due to the relationship with death and suicide that I've carried out over the past few decades.
Suicide doesn't mean I don't love the world, or that my life is full of regret and misery and a mess. By no means! I've met lots of kind people, traveled to lots of places, ate lots of good food, watched lots of good movies and shows, I've been creative, written, drawn, made crafts, and last year I even created my oc. Even up to the moments of typing these words, I still have some things I want to do and promise made with friends in the past.
But, phew, it is a great journey but I think maybe it is the time for me to get off.
Oh I hope there can a separate post each time I replied…but nvm I think I will just continue talking to myself.
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