Addiction is never leaving you

Today has been a particularly bad day.

I have no clear idea about the reason for that though. All I can really do is tell you about it. First of all, this is the first night in weeks I slept through and woke up before eight sometime in the morning, but I didn't get up. I decided to stay in bed cause my head hurt like hell and the pain made me feel sick as soon as I sat up. So I slept until noon, but when I went up the headache and sickness was still there. I cursed about it a bit. I was really hungry but the mere thought of food sickened me, so I just took a cup of coffee and some cigarettes. Real healthy breakfast I know, I know... but I just felt like I was literally hanging up-side-down, I would wanna see you try to eat like that.

My sister cooked some dinner for us but I couldn't eat much. Instead I just sat by my computer surfing and spamming the suicide forum (http://www.suicideforum.com/index.php) with all my depressive shit and things I've been through that most people don't really know about. And trust me, you don't wanna know either. I started sketching a drawing of Steve Buscemi that I'd thought about for a few days, which is about as long as I can keep myself from giving in to a whim. Depending on the matters of course.

I had been thinking about wanting to cut myself for the last weeks extra much but since I've stopped that terrible habit in May, I have strong reasons to not go back in that particular Hell again. It's been harder, so much harder to fight those urges the last few days along with the increase of suicidal thoughts. Just don't know what the fuck I'm living for anymore. Do I really need a reason to die, can't it be enough to just don't wanna live? I posted on the suicide forum that the only reasons I'm still alive is that I'm the worst self murderer ever and that I don't wanna hurt the ones I love and who loves me back.

I just snapped. Fell back into old patterns within a heartbeat, and sliced that stainless steel razorblade across my arm.The urges were so horribly strong, stronger than anything I've ever felt, stronger than a whole day without nicotine or three days in a row without any sleep, than any love I've ever felt or the excitement of seeing Alice Cooper live for the first time.

But afterwards of course I was a bloody mess (I don't know if that pun was intended) and hated myself for what I had done. So completely numb, like dead inside. Like I had just killed that last string of hope inside me. I felt like a complete and utter failure.






By the way, one of my main goals in life is finding my murderer. (It shouldn't be so hard all things concidered. I don't mind hate crime). That must be the ultimate way to die. If you know someone who's not gonna be in jail for the next 20 years, please send me a message.