Cutting

[crowdog66]

To sleep at 4 am; up at 5 pm. Wouldn't have gotten up at all except that Jeff's game is tonight. George worked late and is still in bed.

Cut for the first time in a long time by pressing a serrated knife blade into my arm. Can't seem to stop looking at the veins in my left wrist. With a bit of work... and tomorrow is my birthday. It would be ironic if in my case the answer wasn't 42, but 41. *laughs very bitterly* If I wasn't living with someone, I'd find a sharper blade and just carve away at my arm until the pain went away or I finally worked my way around to those wrist veins. A lengthwise cut, down the vein, might ensure that they stay open long enough.

What am I afraid of? Not succeeding. Ending up in a hospital bed with organ damage from shock that wasn't quite deep enough to kill. Worse, facing George. Knowing that I'd lost his love AND was still alive. Death doesn't really frighten me at this point. The messiness of outliving a suicide attempt does.

It's not easy to kill yourself certainly, short of stepping in front of a speeding bus (and what would that do to the bus driver?).

A friend once mentioned that they read my LJ because of the honesty. Well, there it is. About as honest as it gets, because apparently some people value that. Don't worry. One day I'll stop talking and actually take the leap, and nobody will have to read this anymore.

Comments

[elaryn.livejournal.com]

To be honest, sometimes I feel the same way, too. You know, like no one would miss me, and I'd be better off, and so forth. The love of good friends has kept me here during my darkest hours. I am so loved and lucky.