My mind is a prison. I'm trapped in there and there are many dark horrors I keep in there. I spend my days wearing a mask and acting normal and yet I've been treated for depression on and off for several years now. I'd been thinking about dying for a while now. One day I couldn't even get myself out of bed but I made an intricate plan using some knowledge I gained from my degree education and it cleared me up somehow and gave me the energy to get up. I looked online and found that other people had succeeded with the method I thought of. I even felt a bit clever for thinking of such a painless and easy method on my own. I couldn't remember what it was like when suicide seemed so wrong. The depression wouldn't ever go away and more and more I thought of suicide as a permanent end to it. Almost like a cure. I felt as though my mind was completely clear and there was nothing wrong with me for thinking how I do. No-one could be expected to put up with what I have in my head for a lifetime. I thought that suicidal people would feel the need to wrap up affairs before going but I didn't feel the need. No good byes. No unfinished business. No final notes. No final calls for help or attention. Nothing seemed important. Any concept of what will happen after was so distant in my mind and I was truly disconnected from everything. I felt like freedom was so near. So around a week later I had obtained all the tools I needed and started putting it to action. I'm leaving details out in keeping with the site rules but my plan involved something to knock me out and a lethal bit to do the job. I was focused on making things painless that I left a simple item for the lethal part somewhere else and was in no state to fetch it from the other room. For all my planning I still made a simple mistake and woke up the next day unharmed. So now I don't know where I am. Having my life in the palm of my hands and be ready to throw it away without a second thought has given me what I only describe as a sense of control or power. I even disposed of my tools and destroyed as much evidence of how I obtained them as I could on the high I had after. It's like nothing happened and I can just go on with my life. I'm not even sure if I'll try it again. I've been taking an antidepressant for over 2 weeks now and so I should be expecting some sort of change but if I'm being honest, I just feel lost now.