Something about yesterday was weighted with so much uncertainty. I'm in the midst of a court case. I'm immensely lonely. My dead dad's birthday is coming up. This life is not for me, and I'm okay with that.
I attempted to hang myself last night. I think I was trying to get the feel of it, and the feel of it is fucking scary. I made a noose, put the knot in the door jam, and stood on my chair. I gently laid against the door and sunk slightly down to feel the weight of myself, just that was a stark realization that supporting your weight with just your neck is not natural. I didn't mean to, but I tied the noose in a such a way that when I kicked the chair away, if I choked myself a little harder and pulled myself down, I could grab the door knob and turn it to release myself. I don't know what my way will be, something about the whole ordeal was so comforting, the stinging caress of a piece of cloth that has traveled across the western hemisphere. It is such a beautiful piece, a rusty orange with butterflies and a mandala in the center. Why did I choose such a peaceful piece to make such a horrific discovery? It seems sickly ironic, and I didn't mean it to be. It was the first time I didn't reach out to anyone, and something about that tells me I'm getting closer to CTB. Is this how it works? The parts of me that want to be here just learn to be stronger in my attempt to not be here? I wish we could talk to those who CTB, I wish I had that sort of awareness because it would help with going through with it.
I attempted to hang myself last night. I think I was trying to get the feel of it, and the feel of it is fucking scary. I made a noose, put the knot in the door jam, and stood on my chair. I gently laid against the door and sunk slightly down to feel the weight of myself, just that was a stark realization that supporting your weight with just your neck is not natural. I didn't mean to, but I tied the noose in a such a way that when I kicked the chair away, if I choked myself a little harder and pulled myself down, I could grab the door knob and turn it to release myself. I don't know what my way will be, something about the whole ordeal was so comforting, the stinging caress of a piece of cloth that has traveled across the western hemisphere. It is such a beautiful piece, a rusty orange with butterflies and a mandala in the center. Why did I choose such a peaceful piece to make such a horrific discovery? It seems sickly ironic, and I didn't mean it to be. It was the first time I didn't reach out to anyone, and something about that tells me I'm getting closer to CTB. Is this how it works? The parts of me that want to be here just learn to be stronger in my attempt to not be here? I wish we could talk to those who CTB, I wish I had that sort of awareness because it would help with going through with it.
