Relapse.

Hello muffins.

I have no idea why I called you "muffins" but I guess it doesn't matter. 

I know I'd probably regret swallowing the 250 [probably more] millilitres of acetone and swallowing everything I can reach to. 

But I'd regret many other things. 

Like quitting ram and dropping off from the sports class. 

No more defining titles. 

No more tag names and such. 

I'd become a lifeless sack of bones and flesh and blood. 

I guess that with enough sugar, acetone will be a sweet demise, wouldn't it?

Taking it on a Friday night, consuming the not-very-lethal liquid with the Phenergan and other harmful solids. 

And hoping to never wake up again. 

That won't be bad, right?

I mean, sure, it sucks for me that I'd end my pretty good life, but it's for the better. 

I was never meant to achieve such greatness, and I better die before I harm or affect other lives. 

I guess that this is the end pals. 

Sweetest acetone, a shoelace noose, medication. 

I guess a note would be hanged on the wall near my bed, where I keep all kinds of stuff. 

I will just die, rather pleasantly and peacefully. 

Okay it's evening [6pm is indeed evening] and I'm going to tell you some old news. 

I'm an awful person that surprisingly, wasn't hanged by the pubic hair in some dungeon, only disturbed by the occasional hell in the torturer's chamber. 

I've ditched because of anxiety from. The movie I promised to go to with Sapir. 

As a coping mechanism I'm going to use the good old method of not dealing with problems and this is my second time enjoying what I call an Unplugged Weekend. 

It's quite silly, but I like it.
Do you remember Lag Ba'omer? When I basically stopped communicating with everyone and just enjoyed that "alone" feeling.
I need to get another dose and then I'm good to go, right?
I'd just hunt for solitude and stop what others know as "Dvash", I'd simply become a distant memory.
I mean, being alone isn't that bad, right? It's not like I plan to live or something...

I'm a shitty person.
I better just unplug completely, forever.
I'd become just an idea, nothing physical, nothing real, nothing active, I'd become something that doesn't exist.

Maybe I'm romanticising it in my head, but maybe I just see it like Inbar described once her boney figure, I never gave it this word, but this word fits perfectly.
It has something poetic about it.
I can't agree more.
My complete nothingness, worthlessness in unknown form.
I guess I'd find how tough it is to suffocate yourself.
I am utter crap pile that have brought so much sorrow and disappointed even more, to so many people, it would have been funny if it wasn't so pathetic and tragic.
I just pinched my lip for a good while, I needed it.
While your pathetic servant is doing it's usual things, you may enjoy finding other interesting blogs of people with longer life spans.
I suppose the finale would be as lousy as this blog is, I mean, I finally got everything I wanted, didn't I?

I became a girly girl.
I became emo/goth [if that self-loathing, questionable music, weird humour, completely odd view is goth/emo, then yes.]
I became the emotionless robot I wanted to be.
I got rid of the emotionless robot I regretted wanting to be.
I got a diagnosis.
I was hospitalised.
I learned how to take great care of wounds.
I became the third wheel I wanted to be.
I lost weight.
I was active and went through the most amazing time periods anyone could experience.
I was passive and went through the lousiest time I could experience.

I guess I have only one way to describe my evening from now.
Shower, finish the post, take my meds, go to bed, cry a little, sketch and watch a movie, maybe cry a bit more later and continue writing something in my notebook [suicide note] and then be blurred and hazy enough to crash on the pillow.
And maybe grab some cord and attempt to understand how to do it.
I just don't want to exist.



I came back from the shower.
I did something that I don't regret.
I've scratched myself and sliced the epidermis near my left breast bud.
I did it multiple times but only four went well.
It took me a while to get the technique.
I am such an embarrassment to everyone, I just need to end this.
I just guess that my death will be lovely.
So I won't see Gal, no biggie, huh?
I'd leave some note behind and join the rest.

Embrace my last moments being in fearlessness and bliss.
And savour the last lungfuls of oxygen.
And leave.


I just guess that all of the beautiful poetic shit I'm going to do will have to wait another night.


I hate myself so much, and at least, it will soon all  fade away.