Historically my ‘suicidal ideation’ has been extremely intrusive. Sudden and severe, but thankfully very brief episodes with enough space in-between them to make them manageable with the decades of experience I have of doing so. But the past three...
Historically my ‘suicidal ideation’ has been extremely intrusive. Sudden and severe, but thankfully very brief episodes with enough space in-between them to make them manageable with the decades of experience I have of doing so.
But the past three days I have been constantly suicidal without breaks, without relief from the exhaustion that carrying this huge weight around – physically as well as mentally – burdens me with. It’s so bloody tiring.
Suicide.
I’ve spent three days, now, under a cloud
blackbirds have flown into existence. It
wraps me in a colourless silk stripping me
of every nerve, every piece of me. I could
pull death over me; dive into its net and
drown in the wet ocean of dead fishes,
effortlessly.
