A Loose Noose.

It's quarter past six, I'm listening to Demolition Lovers, and I woke up from a dream that basically explains a very strong topic.

I dreamt about Gal, about my helplessness, about how I miss her, about how much I miss her, about how I must defeat my malfunctioning brain I order to have her again, about how I'd be drowned and taken away from her if I'd sink deeper, about the incredible time it'll take me to see her again. 

Wow. 

But, this state, this familiar and overused state that I stayed at for so long, I don't want to leave home, it's not time yet. 

It was a month and a half or two months ago, when I relapsed and was willing to get help, but now, from the shock, the overwhelming experience at the institution, no. 

When I finally came out of my shell, you scared me, and now I'm deep in it. 

I still want to disappear. 

My unplugged weekend doesn't work much. 

Why? I'm already alone. 

I haven't got a single what'sapp message, no calls, nothing. 

I'm finally alone. 

But something's missing. 

And I think I know what it is; I still hold meaningless ties and relationships. 

I need to be willing to let everything go, and I need to commit to this idea. 

Solitude. 

So I won't have anyone to go with to Tel Aviv, sure, and I will basically be even more pathetic which is basically an invitation to my self hatred. 

I'd be alone. 

No one to be with. 

No one to talk with. 

No one to do homework with. 

No one to ride bike with. 

No one to know much of. 

No one to have when needed. 

No one to go to movies with. 

No one at all. 

I'm going to build an iron bubble around myself, and stop this bullshit. 

I'm harming everybody and it doesn't do well to anyone. 

Well, maybe to the psyhologist and the psychiatrist's pocket...

I don't want to breathe. 

Would it be that bad if one day, instead of Dvash they know, would be in bed the cold and limp body of her?

I don't want to hurt them this way, but every single thing I do hurts then further. 

If they weren't legally obliged to be with me, they'd kick me out in a flash. 

I'm an unpleasant person. 

My way to his my sorrows and numbness is to fall under the childish being of mine and do the most impulsive things I could possibly do. 

I hate so many things about me. 

I don't deserve this life.

Damn this hell! I can't bear the thought of staying here, and by great amount of exact events that led me to do things, I'd become something in life, I don't deserve it. 

Why couldn't I possibly have shitty lives for the shitty person I am. 

I wish I could fall asleep all day. 

I don't want to face my existence, and I don't want to hurt them by my death now. 

I think I'm going to cut myself. 

Nope. 

I definitely going to cut myself. 

Pulling my pubic hair is painful, sure, but I need the scarring, the true ugliness that my skin covers, the risk of being caught and sent to hell once again. 

I'm tasteless. 

Hollow; empty; nothing; a shadow of something that used to be; vapour; void; undead; pathetic; liar; masker; fool; wreck; an indistinguishable being between nothing to the physical something. 

I hope it won't be too bad if I'd stay in bed all day. 

Or just sit at my laptop and avoid eating or functioning. 

Just make my sims get their degree already, I made them rich by applying for funding. 

And from donating plasma, saliva, giggles and sometimes organs. 

And from street art commissions. 

I need to practise the guitar skill to four [I'm three] so Lukus would have tips. 

And to make him a better painter and chef. 

The darn dormitory kitchen always gets on fire and full with spoiled food of other students. 

At least I'd soon graduate for my second time [less than one week in there] and they'll earn their degrees and 5,000 lifetime points or happiness or whatever it's called. 

I'd try to get my girlfriends from there to marry me and have pretty and cute babies that would become my next generation. 

My lesbian pair would adopt one to three children, and the straight pair would birth tweens. 

Then if pick my favourite two or three, make them become a band and breed them with the other gender and go on.



Yes!
Oh my, fucking yes!
The sunken thing in my feet, it's still there! I thought I gained so much that I lost it completely!
But it's almost gone.
Damn it!
At least I managed to eat way less food for breakfast!
I know it's a pathetic, attention seeking, disgusting and truly rude behaviour, but I need something in my life that will work.
If getting skinny would help, then let it. It'll make my life become absolute crap, being too weak to do things, have the dead pale-yellow tint to my skin, become even worse.
And when I won't be checked physically for marks for long enough [the safe time is usually six months or so] I'll buy my pedicure razors [aka those big-ass razorblades that are thinner then paper] and slash myself between the ribcage bones.

Here I am, not wearing my mask, dealing with my ordinary self and not being impulsive and childish.
I just hate myself, and I want to strangle myself, but something feels different.
It feels different thanks to do blue pill, I just can't get to my emotions.

At ten I drank raspberry green tea with two heaping teaspoons of brown sugar.
I just hope I'd manage to have more and more of me disappear.
Reminds me a bit of some forum I was at, it had some humorous suicide note, "Tah-dah!" the trick have worked.

Damn, twelve pm, and I need to eat lunch.
I took a decent amount of rice, but I'm not planning to eat it completely.
And I won't down it fast, I mustn't.
The slow consuming allows my stomach to digest the food quicker [it has less to digest] and it keeps my stomach smaller, causing me to feel full with less food and the bonus is that I'm decreasing my hunger.

Okay five minutes to two, I haven't finished the bowl, I ate about two thirds or three sevenths of the bowl.
I am invisible.
I always were, didn't I?
I just tried to get all of the attention I could possibly have, and I was childish to achieve it.
I think that the right thing to do is to stop behaving childishly, that'll be my first step.
Then leaving friendships and other relationships.
Maybe move to the back row, preferably sit there alone.
Sure, my grades will vary since I will have a different focus method, but it's for the best.
And I won't eat, to just have something to focus on, my sketchbooks are quite empty lately, fearing that people would peep or something, now it would be full of the beautiful plans.
This time, everything will be harder, because I'm under supervision.
I'd have bits of control by not doing certain things, like eating or not eating.
I basically have control only on my homework, and even that I don't really have.
I guess that now I have a new motive.

Yes.
This motive is going to be quite good for a while.
I need control.
I want to actually have something that I win at in this sports class.
I suck at basically everything and I'm far from being at the top ten of anything, so why not be the one with the most willpower?
I don't find food appealing anyway.

My only guarantee for weight loss would be my surrounding's words and being able to wrap my hands over certain parts of the body.

Great, my whatsapp is lifeless as I am.
Wonderful.
I guess that with everyday I feel that acetone is the answer.

I guess it's easier to go with a very slow suicide.


I think I haven't asked myself yet the right question.
It's not "Why do it?" but it's a lot simpler one: Why not do it?
Where's my answer.
Let's think.
I should do it.
Definitely should.

I think I'm going to go to bed and cry and hate myself for a while.
I can't get proper physical pain to distract me, so I'd use the humiliating coping mechanism.

I didn't cry, because I wasn't allowed to be in my bed, I tend to sleep in the daytime because I can't really sleep well at the nighttime, I just wish I didn't have I go to school anymore. 

It isn't like I'm doing anything there but read porn or wander at odd and incredibly honest forums or read about mental illnesses, syndromes, diseases or straight to the point of suicide and methods of it; I draw and sketch things that I would never achieve or be but just admire, and the things that I can are always destructive in some way; I skip my meal because there are my hungry schoolmates who actually fucking deserve the food I'm getting and I'm unworthy for food; I don't practise properly at physical education because I'm a shameful weakling, and I have no purpose in this world; I got to the AA math by accident because I fucking suck 

I don't belong to this place. 

I wasn't supposed to be born in such beautiful life. 

I deserve to suffer or to be ended. 

You know why am I this attention-seeking stupid little annoying bitch?

BECAUSE IM AN UNWORTHY BEING IN THE UNENDING STATE OF DENIAL. 

I've cut my chest again. 

It's hard because I don't have much place left and it doesn't cut deep, seriously, I'd have at most lighter stripes of skin that won't last very long. 

I want to purge. 

Sadly, my parents will hear me and would be even more strict with my meals. 

So instead, I will have to purge by pain, and I must have a scar, something that will repel people from me. 

Oh I just wish I'd die. 

I really want to chug down the acetone now. 

But for what am I waiting for?

I can only assume it's my selfishness, anxiety, and guilt. 

The liver can manage up to 200 millilitres of acetone, I guess that a bit above won't damage me enough to make my liver fail slowly, but I do think that I would be in horrifying pain, puke, and under the sedative I will be to blurred out to notice anything. 

I want to die. 

Really, should I do it? Now?

I'm going to do short reading. 

Okay, hell, it won't kill me but it would surely wake up my parents and I'd have my stomach pumped. 

Nope. 

The good news is that I learned how to tie a noose. 

The bad news is that I will need some massive long and strong cord. 

I guess I can find some replacement at my closet.

Tears are crap and so is rocking back and forth and lying in a small voice that I'm okay.

I'm not okay, I need to die.