willitpass
The awful things we do to make the head go quiet
- Mar 10, 2020
- 3,413
I'm once again days away from an attempt. It's honestly lost a lot of the its meaning after having done this so many times yet always survived, either silently or wound up in the psych ward for it. The only difference with this one is that if I am saved, it will actually seem like an unfortunate event related to my chronic illness, and would land me in the medical hospital alone. Otherwise, it will either be yet another silent attempt, or it will be my final peace I've been desperately trying for for over a decade now.
Even though I no longer believe any attempt will kill me anymore, I like to prepare just in case. At the very least, people will be coming into my apartment to take me to the hospital, so I want to get it clean. I'm having a relatively decent day as far as symptoms go, so have been able to get a good amount of house work done. It's already in a reasonable state, but I would prefer it to be as clean as possible. I hate people coming into my apartment when it's dirty… Such a silly thing. Protecting my own ego for after I'm gone. The human mind is a funny thing.
I won't be writing any notes or doing anything to indicate that this was a suicide. After my family watching me fight my own head since I was a young child, spending years and years with me in and out of the hospital, all they've gone through with me, I think it will be easier on them to live believing it was an opportunistic infection due to my poor health. It will leave them with no final word from me, but maybe they'll believe that I died feeling somewhat okay mentally. They know I've been struggling a bit due to life circumstances, but I've been saying overall my mental health has been stable. I want them to keep that.
If I do survive, as over the years my body has proven that it does like to survive the unsurvivable in what seems to be an attempt at the Guinness World Record for "shouldn't be here but seems to be invincible", then at least my apartment will be clean and tidy for me to recover from a horrific infection in.
As awful as sepsis is, in my experience it honestly doesn't feel much different to my standard bad flare day. I find solace in knowing that statistically and physiologically, this is very unlikely to not kill me without intervention, and even with intervention I am dancing with the devil. I'm at peace with the method I have chosen. Especially the fact that it may never come to light that it was a suicide.
Even though I no longer believe any attempt will kill me anymore, I like to prepare just in case. At the very least, people will be coming into my apartment to take me to the hospital, so I want to get it clean. I'm having a relatively decent day as far as symptoms go, so have been able to get a good amount of house work done. It's already in a reasonable state, but I would prefer it to be as clean as possible. I hate people coming into my apartment when it's dirty… Such a silly thing. Protecting my own ego for after I'm gone. The human mind is a funny thing.
I won't be writing any notes or doing anything to indicate that this was a suicide. After my family watching me fight my own head since I was a young child, spending years and years with me in and out of the hospital, all they've gone through with me, I think it will be easier on them to live believing it was an opportunistic infection due to my poor health. It will leave them with no final word from me, but maybe they'll believe that I died feeling somewhat okay mentally. They know I've been struggling a bit due to life circumstances, but I've been saying overall my mental health has been stable. I want them to keep that.
If I do survive, as over the years my body has proven that it does like to survive the unsurvivable in what seems to be an attempt at the Guinness World Record for "shouldn't be here but seems to be invincible", then at least my apartment will be clean and tidy for me to recover from a horrific infection in.
As awful as sepsis is, in my experience it honestly doesn't feel much different to my standard bad flare day. I find solace in knowing that statistically and physiologically, this is very unlikely to not kill me without intervention, and even with intervention I am dancing with the devil. I'm at peace with the method I have chosen. Especially the fact that it may never come to light that it was a suicide.