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neesh
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One day I will kill myself.
Why?
Do I hate life that much? Am I addicted to the pain?
No and no.
I'm just impulsive, and low on self restraint. One day the urge will come to me, the razor blade or knife at hand, and there I'll go, before I even think about it. In the shower today I took a pair of scissors to my hair, because I felt it needed a ragged cut. In the shower today I paused for a second and looked at my wrists, the spring green veins bulging past the surface, asking for inspection, so suited to the perfect cut.
I know nothing about gentle cuts or not too deep, I've never self harmed like that before, no butterfly kit beneath my bed for the times when life is rough. No antiseptic standing by, no swabs or bands. No pins or points or blades ready for the deed, when the time comes I will take what I get.
Not to say that I haven't self harmed, but I don't think I'll starve myself to death, since it takes too long, and before the times comes, the urge will pass, or someone will save me. A cut is too quick to be saved, too sudden for a later change of mind.
I know it will come, though I know not when or where, nor why such a mood would take me. For all my contemplation of suicide, the desire has never hit me. I know that one day it will. One day I'll cut free, and immediately after I will think "Oh shit, now that was stupid," and it'll be too late.
Death I will meet on my own terms, at my own time. And I will greet him with a sheepish smile and say "Erm, I didn't really mean it... You couldn't give me a second chance, could you?"
To which there is no reply.
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051025
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