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Scaring myself lately. - love like me ・ 日記
non solum memento mori, memento vivere sed etiam
Scaring myself lately.
One day I feel pretty good, like I'm making positive steps in my life and I'm not just slogging my way blindly toward dying alone in my apartment for my cat to feast on my soft fleshy bits. This is generally followed by a week of not being able to eat with a fork because I can't stop imagining stabbing myself in the arm and ripping out the arteries.

There's a part of my mind where, even when I was a kid, whenever I went over a curved overpass, would imagine the car going straight and falling off. I used to think this was just an overactive imagination, but lately I'm starting to wonder. Mainly because the image in my mind of stabbing myself in the wrist with a fork is so incredibly vivid. The only problem with it is that the image is of me stabbing my left wrist with a fork held in my right hand, stabbing just to the right of the artery, scooping under it and ripping it out like one does with chicken drumsticks. I couldn't possibly do this, because I'm left handed. I doubt my right arm is even strong enough to do that. Not to mention that I'm a total pussy when it comes to pain.

The thing is, I see suicide opportunities all around me. Not all the time, just often enough that I get freaked out by the fact that my subconscious feels the need to show me how I died right there in an alternate reality. Yeah, that's how it appears in my mind. And it scares the hell out of me.

But that's been going on my whole life, for as long as I can remember. The weird suicidal visions. The reason I'm writing about it now is because the fork thing, I can't let go of it. If I try to eat with a fork, my left wrist seems to be... I dunno, not exactly itching, but I can't keep eating without putting my arm between my knees for a minute. I'm shaking now just thinking about it.

I don't even know why I'm writing this.
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hnpcc From: hnpcc Date: Sunday 11th January 2009 21.39 (UTC) (Link)
The thing is, I see suicide opportunities all around me.

I do to a certain extent, although not as much as I used to. (Hell, anything's got to be a step up from where I was in 1992.)

I'm not entirely sure what changed exactly - some of it was just forcing myself not to focus on it, or at least to obsess about it. Some of it was I just got too busy and didn't have time to notice. Some of it was probably changing hormone levels.
valamelmeo From: valamelmeo Date: Monday 12th January 2009 13.44 (UTC) (Link)
Well, that at least makes me feel less insane. Most of the time when I mention this to people they look at me as if I just told them I was actually planning suicide. Which I'm not, never have been, and just couldn't do, no matter how depressed I may get.

I suppose if it stops shocking me, that's when I should worry.
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