Friday, 19 August 2011

Do you have any idea what it's like to have your every waking moment filled with thoughts of death? Not just thoughts of death, fantasies of dying. It's exhausting, that's what it is.

My whole time, I'm lying here thinking about those final few moments. What it will feel like? What I will be thinking about? What will happen after?

What's the final straw? After all of this, I wonder what the final 'too-much' thing will be. Or if there will even be one. Maybe I just get too tired, run out of motivation to carry on?

And who finds me? When? Who? How? What do they think? Say? Do?

Mostly I think about the chins. I can't bear the thought of them starving to death, just because no-one worries about me soon enough. But not too soon either - I don't want anyone getting here too soon, and thinking they're helping by trying to save me. Ambulances, hospitals, all that stuff.

I don't want any 'cry for help' failed attempts. I've been crying for help for months. There has to be just one, single, successful attempt. I just don't know when.

I don't want to give up too soon. That's why I keep not doing it. Every time I get to the brink - about a hundred times a day - I stop because i think maybe it's too soon. What if I'm not actually ready yet? How do I tell?

I already know there's no hope. I already know nothing's going to change. I'm just torturing myself by hanging on. And torturing the people I love. How is that fair? To me or to them? How is it fair to keep hanging on, when I know there's nothing to hang on to? Why can't I just let go?

It's probably as simple as I'm scared I'll miss out on something. Like a child who doesn't want to go to bed, in case they miss something going on downstairs. I think that's why I can't do it. Because I'm scared there'll be something worth living for, just after I'm gone, and I'm scared I'll miss it.

But you can't keep living on the off-chance that there'll be something worth living for. It's actually the same as all the time I spent deciding whether or not to leave R. I knew all along that I wanted to. I was just scared to miss out on the one mythical thing that would have made living with him worthwhile. Bearable, even.

I did leave him in the end though. Finally, I reached the point where the possibility of something worthwhile wasn't strong enough to offset the reality. It will be the same with this, eventually. If it happens the same way, there will be a dream that leaves me in no doubt that now's the time. I just wish it could be now.

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