stopMotionSickness
Member
- Mar 2, 2026
- 13
I think I owe some people an explanation, and maybe some documentation for my own sake.
Last Thursday night, despite a lifetime of near daily but more low-key ideation, I kind of caved in and just couldn't stop thinking about ctb. Not completely out of the usual, nights are often hard. But I got up Friday, and the first coherent thought I could form on my bed continued to be ctb. I don't know why. Nothing particularly bad happened, and I wasn't doing particularly worse than I have been all semester. And yet? Extremely stressed out from the moment I opened my eyes. I kinda sat there and dragged myself to a research presentation (by some grad student at my university); with the thought I had to just "put myself out there", or just go outside to shake it off. That went about as well as my anxiety was telling me it would go; ended up stressing out in the corner while everyone else socialized and networked with professors and all that. See scribbled notes I was writing to try to not completely give up and go home before it even started. So, feeling no better, I decided that it might just be my time. I went around and bought a good amount of liquor. Dropped a bunch of money for the homeless wherever I saw them. Wanted to buy a pack of smokes, but the idea of asking for them stressed me out too much and I just walked by (which checks out; the smell, fear, and guilt get to me more than the nicotine does anyway).
So then I came home and sat down. Opened up the train schedules. I've always had this particular station in mind for high-speed trains running through it without stopping pretty late in the night. I looked up photos of the trains to make sure they had enough clearance on their front. I started vividly picturing the scene. The sound of the panicked horns as they get closer and louder. Outpaced only by the rumbling and screeching. The vibration of the rails my neck would rest upon, and the cold shiver I might feel at the steel touching the nape of my neck. I could picture looking at the sky, maybe seeing one star in the light-polluted station, maybe with a mercury vapor lamp in view. Trying to control my breath. The cold air, and the smell and grime of concrete still about me. How my bones and skull would be crushed and buckle in the wake of the train; how I would at most feel a brief jostle, before everything cuts off.
There, at my desk, I started thinking about the people I'd probably hurt. It's not much, granted, but I've got a couple friends, and I know my parents wouldn't quite get over it. At some point, I suddenly realized that my older brother probably didn't just "disappear from social media and cut contact with everyone" after a social media episode and fake cps allegation. He was probably in this same place and decided that's how he'd make sure none of us would know. He's probably dead, and that just felt like another ton of bricks, after I was already struggling to do anything but thousand-yard-stare every ten seconds.
Eventually I started drinking. Dropped and edible. Figured I'd just enjoy these things one of the last times I had left. I started to realize how there was not going to be anything outside of this weekend; this was it. All my life; my friends, my struggles, my triumphs, my pains, the hopelessness and the effort I've put in anyways. It all ends on a cold march weekend with nothing really of note. I started to write out the notes I intended for people to find. I finished a couple before I decided I'd have someone on Earth hear of what I was thinking; I had never spoken about any of these thoughts in any capacity to anyone ever before. I opened a thread here, not really expecting anyone to answer. I had learned the hard lesson that unless I am to initiate something or approach someone, then nothingness is essentially guaranteed.
And yet I got a couple of answers. And like yeah, that's what the whole point was. But I was kind of overwhelmed that I actually got a response, and that it wasn't even condemning me like I had started to think it would. Among other things, someone reminded me that I have a lifelong love for nature. I made sure to answer and respond as much as I could, but I then opened my photos, of all the places I had hiked last summer, and the friends I had gone with.
And basically, I just started crying. Mind you, I haven't full-on cried for like 10 years. It's an emotional release I've desperately wished for, but which I've found myself just unable to initiate, no matter the weight I was feeling. But there I was, crying. I cried for like 2 hours straight. I verbalized out loud to myself the words "I don't wanna die". Cried myself to sleep like that.
After all that, though, I just felt the same when I got up Saturday. Couldn't bring myself to go outside anywhere all day though. Thoughts still all about me. Passed out and got up Sunday. More of the same. I figured then enough is enough. I had my notes, I had the plan, and I had my "goodbyes" to my memories. Took the train all the way out to the station, which took about an hour (I wanted to make sure it's a relatively distant station that I'd have time to think things over and have less potential interference from people). See the notes I scribbled on the train on the way there.
And so obviously I didn't do it. I kinda went out there, I sat on the forward edge of the platform, looked out into the distance, and saw the depth of the choices I had. Maybe it's trite, but genuinely I did just choose "I can do it later" instead. Back to square one, perhaps. But as it says there, Nothing is good. Nothing is particularly bad. It's yet another week. I have another shitload of assignments on the way. More grades to tank. Maybe I am bound for a worthless degree, but I think I'd prefer to wait to see it be worthless. I think I want to die out in the woods; the city is too brutal.
So yeah idk. Nothing here was super important, it's probably a story told a gorillion times on here. Got in a real bad headspace, got dead convinced that this was it, and that I'd do it this time. By the time I got there, the intensity just attenuated out. And so here I am. But idk. I feel at least a small amount of my humanity coming back at finally seeing I'm not the only one. That I genuinely don't have to think of this in complete isolation. It's all new to me, so idk maybe it's still unwanted content, but ig I'm not disused to taking it in complete isolation. Anyway, thanks for reading, in case anyone did.
Last Thursday night, despite a lifetime of near daily but more low-key ideation, I kind of caved in and just couldn't stop thinking about ctb. Not completely out of the usual, nights are often hard. But I got up Friday, and the first coherent thought I could form on my bed continued to be ctb. I don't know why. Nothing particularly bad happened, and I wasn't doing particularly worse than I have been all semester. And yet? Extremely stressed out from the moment I opened my eyes. I kinda sat there and dragged myself to a research presentation (by some grad student at my university); with the thought I had to just "put myself out there", or just go outside to shake it off. That went about as well as my anxiety was telling me it would go; ended up stressing out in the corner while everyone else socialized and networked with professors and all that. See scribbled notes I was writing to try to not completely give up and go home before it even started. So, feeling no better, I decided that it might just be my time. I went around and bought a good amount of liquor. Dropped a bunch of money for the homeless wherever I saw them. Wanted to buy a pack of smokes, but the idea of asking for them stressed me out too much and I just walked by (which checks out; the smell, fear, and guilt get to me more than the nicotine does anyway).
So then I came home and sat down. Opened up the train schedules. I've always had this particular station in mind for high-speed trains running through it without stopping pretty late in the night. I looked up photos of the trains to make sure they had enough clearance on their front. I started vividly picturing the scene. The sound of the panicked horns as they get closer and louder. Outpaced only by the rumbling and screeching. The vibration of the rails my neck would rest upon, and the cold shiver I might feel at the steel touching the nape of my neck. I could picture looking at the sky, maybe seeing one star in the light-polluted station, maybe with a mercury vapor lamp in view. Trying to control my breath. The cold air, and the smell and grime of concrete still about me. How my bones and skull would be crushed and buckle in the wake of the train; how I would at most feel a brief jostle, before everything cuts off.
There, at my desk, I started thinking about the people I'd probably hurt. It's not much, granted, but I've got a couple friends, and I know my parents wouldn't quite get over it. At some point, I suddenly realized that my older brother probably didn't just "disappear from social media and cut contact with everyone" after a social media episode and fake cps allegation. He was probably in this same place and decided that's how he'd make sure none of us would know. He's probably dead, and that just felt like another ton of bricks, after I was already struggling to do anything but thousand-yard-stare every ten seconds.
Eventually I started drinking. Dropped and edible. Figured I'd just enjoy these things one of the last times I had left. I started to realize how there was not going to be anything outside of this weekend; this was it. All my life; my friends, my struggles, my triumphs, my pains, the hopelessness and the effort I've put in anyways. It all ends on a cold march weekend with nothing really of note. I started to write out the notes I intended for people to find. I finished a couple before I decided I'd have someone on Earth hear of what I was thinking; I had never spoken about any of these thoughts in any capacity to anyone ever before. I opened a thread here, not really expecting anyone to answer. I had learned the hard lesson that unless I am to initiate something or approach someone, then nothingness is essentially guaranteed.
And yet I got a couple of answers. And like yeah, that's what the whole point was. But I was kind of overwhelmed that I actually got a response, and that it wasn't even condemning me like I had started to think it would. Among other things, someone reminded me that I have a lifelong love for nature. I made sure to answer and respond as much as I could, but I then opened my photos, of all the places I had hiked last summer, and the friends I had gone with.
And basically, I just started crying. Mind you, I haven't full-on cried for like 10 years. It's an emotional release I've desperately wished for, but which I've found myself just unable to initiate, no matter the weight I was feeling. But there I was, crying. I cried for like 2 hours straight. I verbalized out loud to myself the words "I don't wanna die". Cried myself to sleep like that.
After all that, though, I just felt the same when I got up Saturday. Couldn't bring myself to go outside anywhere all day though. Thoughts still all about me. Passed out and got up Sunday. More of the same. I figured then enough is enough. I had my notes, I had the plan, and I had my "goodbyes" to my memories. Took the train all the way out to the station, which took about an hour (I wanted to make sure it's a relatively distant station that I'd have time to think things over and have less potential interference from people). See the notes I scribbled on the train on the way there.
And so obviously I didn't do it. I kinda went out there, I sat on the forward edge of the platform, looked out into the distance, and saw the depth of the choices I had. Maybe it's trite, but genuinely I did just choose "I can do it later" instead. Back to square one, perhaps. But as it says there, Nothing is good. Nothing is particularly bad. It's yet another week. I have another shitload of assignments on the way. More grades to tank. Maybe I am bound for a worthless degree, but I think I'd prefer to wait to see it be worthless. I think I want to die out in the woods; the city is too brutal.
So yeah idk. Nothing here was super important, it's probably a story told a gorillion times on here. Got in a real bad headspace, got dead convinced that this was it, and that I'd do it this time. By the time I got there, the intensity just attenuated out. And so here I am. But idk. I feel at least a small amount of my humanity coming back at finally seeing I'm not the only one. That I genuinely don't have to think of this in complete isolation. It's all new to me, so idk maybe it's still unwanted content, but ig I'm not disused to taking it in complete isolation. Anyway, thanks for reading, in case anyone did.
