I tell people that I am planning to kill myself, but they never seem to believe me.
I told my ex that I have been sharing ideas and notes for projects I have wanted to do so that the ideas live on if I am not around.
She said it made her sad to hear it.
I was having lunch with a few friends the other day and absentmindedly made a noose out of a straw wrapper.
"Are you trying to tell us something?" My friends joked.
"It's an art piece."
"What's it called?"
"February, 2019."
"Dude, that's not funny. You shouldn't joke like that."
In the car with my friend Alessandra, I told her that I was really hoping that going to Arizona next week is going to help. That maybe the desert air will clear my head and cleanse my soul. Then I added, "and hey, if not, then I'll be in the desert and that's a great place to die."
She laughed and employed some gallows humor about dying in the desert.
But with her it was a laugh of recognition and solidarity. We took turns saving each other from jumping off of the Brooklyn Bridge and various subway platforms when we were in New York.
She knows it's serious, but also knows nothing will likely come from these feelings. For a brief moment I felt silly and relieved and hopeful that I would be okay.
But within moments of leaving her house, everything flooded back.
Last night, I had a coughing fit and my roommate jokingly told me "don't die.'
I responded, "I won't. At least not for another week or two."
"Why, what happens then?"
Then I'll be alone in the desert.
He changed the subject.
Early this evening I had a panic attack and started uncontrollably sobbing and really felt I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think of anyone to call.
Once I settled down, I went to my birthday party (today's my birthday). Most everyone who was coming bailed.
I confessed to my friend Amanda that all day I have had this thought in my head basically saying "I am so grateful this is my last birthday."
She responded, "why would this be your last?"
"Because my main concern has always been that I don't want someone I know finding my body and, well, I'll soon be alone in the desert."
She silently held my arm.
It was the first time I have been touched in a long time.
But I still don't feel better. All I can think is "at least they've all been warned."
I don't know what to do.
Well, I know what I want to do.
But even then I am conflicted.
I want a reason to not do what I want to do.
I want to find a way to at least live with and manage the constant torment and suffering that is being alive.
But that feels like a lot to hope for.
1:25 a.m. - 2019-01-24
Recent entries:
9 Days - 2019-03-19
I am feeling so many things but just want to sleep - 2019-03-05
Waiting - 2019-02-19
Still in the Shit - 2019-02-08
It's Going to be Okay. - 2019-01-30
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