Decision.

I've spent my day in silence. Well surrounded by silence. I have barely said a word out loud. I've screamed but that doesn't count. I've been clutching razor blades in both hands. My psychologist said yesterday that it was brave not to commit suicide that day. But here I am the very next day and I am wiling myself to do it. There is no way to describe how alone I feel at this moment. This very moment. Because people can say they are there for you but that doesn't change the overwhelming feeling of being completely alone.

You might think I am the bravest person you know. Strong. A fighter. But I'm not when you look behind the fake smiles and pretty lies. I feel empty. I feel cowardly. Stupid. Weak. And I don't want to be the imagined version you think I am. That's not me. I've proved that.

Today I bought blades and they cost me two whole pounds. That's how little a suicide can cost. And I walked out of the shop and I stopped for a brief moment. How easy was that? Walk in. Pay. Suddenly I have the means to kill myself. Right in my  backpack. And they were just waiting there covered in plastic and paper. Ten whole blades. I only really needed one but it's always good to have a back up.

And then I thought about how I don't have a back up family. I just have those who left me when it got tough. They acted like I was faulty and I was worthless. That they could stand to lose a daughter, sister, niece, cousin, and granddaughter. That it was easier than trying to understand why a young woman would say her father raped her. Because that was too painful to handle. So they passed the pain to myself. And I've carried it for many years now but today I can't anymore. There is no one to pass it to. 

So walked and walked and I thought it's such a beautiful day. What a day to choose. I could smell the sun and feel the warmth on my skin. And I wasn't scared or sad. I felt peaceful. And I still do. Peaceful walking around and navigating through town and just passing people by. They had no idea. No idea. 

That's one of the misconceptions of someone who is suicidal. That sense that you should be able to notice it. But it doesn't look like the sad girl on the films. It usually looks just normal. Like nothing. And that's why a lot of people never seem understand why they couldn't stop a person. Why they didn't even notice. It's not visible. 

I don't care about anything anymore. I don't care that my father abused me because now I understand why. And I don't care that my mum chose to reject me because I understand why. And I care only a tiny bit that Jess stopped talking to me. I just hope that they don't care too. It hurts to care. 

When I left hospital this morning on leave. A nurse said to let them know if I'll be late. He added that because it's a hospital they 'have' to worry. 

I'm so sorry for making you HAVE to worry.

Silence.