nothingleft
Member
- Sep 1, 2019
- 91
I've been suicidal (on-and-off) for at least the last ten years; since I was barely even a teenager. The last four or five years, specifically the last two, have pushed me to my breaking point - again, and again, and again. I planned to kill myself last year, probably the year before that too. I've made a few unsuccessful attempts to hang myself; I failed so profoundly at these attempts that I'm beginning to wonder if I'm too incompetent to succeed at any method.
Hope deserted me a year and a half ago. Entirely, this time. I've tried to get it back, even a glimmer, but it's just gone - as if it never existed at all.
I've been able to cope decently with severe depression for so long because I learned I wouldn't always feel so bad. That's what they always tell you: your brain tricks you into believing nothing can better; when you're depressed it's so difficult to remember not being depressed. But this darkness won't go away. This is misery. This is hell. I'm stuck in this limbo of never-ending torment.
It sounds so melodramatic. It's hard to talk about mental suffering in a way that doesn't - one of the many reasons I hate the endless conversations about the status of my mental health with my parents.
I believe I'm beyond help. Death is the only thing that can end my suffering. And I'm so fucking sick of suffering and promising myself I'll make it stop but never having the balls to go through with it. Convincing myself tomorrow might be less shitty. I can't survive another year of this. I don't want to survive this year.
Hope deserted me a year and a half ago. Entirely, this time. I've tried to get it back, even a glimmer, but it's just gone - as if it never existed at all.
I've been able to cope decently with severe depression for so long because I learned I wouldn't always feel so bad. That's what they always tell you: your brain tricks you into believing nothing can better; when you're depressed it's so difficult to remember not being depressed. But this darkness won't go away. This is misery. This is hell. I'm stuck in this limbo of never-ending torment.
It sounds so melodramatic. It's hard to talk about mental suffering in a way that doesn't - one of the many reasons I hate the endless conversations about the status of my mental health with my parents.
I believe I'm beyond help. Death is the only thing that can end my suffering. And I'm so fucking sick of suffering and promising myself I'll make it stop but never having the balls to go through with it. Convincing myself tomorrow might be less shitty. I can't survive another year of this. I don't want to survive this year.
