Today, I had the sick feeling in my stomach that I get when I'm planning to overdose and I could feel myself gradually becoming more and more convinced that I should run off and do that. But I knew, deep down, I didn't want to and the sick feeling was from the thought of all the tablets I'd have to swallow. But a part of me was becoming more and more excited at the thought of ending this once and for all. So, in a bid to be stopped and to have my leave suspended so that I couldn't do anything, I wrote a letter for the staff and after reading it they stopped my leave. I still tried to persuade them to let me out as one last ditch attempt to do as the voices commanded so that I wouldn't get grief off them . It worked and I'm so much happier having a shower in my en-suite and watching Hot Fuzz in bed than I would've been roaming the streets with tablets in my hand and a shiver in my body.
This is what I wrote:
'Do you have any idea how it feels to wake up one morning and your first thought to be 'today, I'm going to kill myself'? But to not just have that, to also have excitement at the thought of that? It's one thing to feel suicidal but it's another to enjoy that feeling.
It makes me feel safe, which is ironic considering I'm more unsafe than ever when I feel this way. But no, it makes me safe because it means people can say and do what they like to me and it won't hurt. I won't even feel it.
I write this as I feel myself slipping further and further away. This is my desperate attempt to cling on to something before I fall. This is me, saving me from myself.'