Warning: Extremely triggering subject matter, possibly vulgar language, and other things you shouldn't read if you're in a bad place yourself right now. But when these things come over me I pretty much stop thinking. I've had suicidal thoughts for as long as I can remember; I was constantly harassed and beaten up in school and sexually abused by my father at home. I'm 23 now and amazingly my life has just gotten worse. I've been feeling this pretty much all-encompassing despair lately, mostly due to the realization that I have no life and no future and absolutely no way to end up with one. I'm trapped in this situation and my only chance for reprieve is my fiancee, whom I love very, very much, but who is very far away, and whom I won't see til August. (And even once we're together I'll be caught in the same catch-22 of being poor and "uneducated", and really, that's not helping.) Anyway, most of this leads up to my suicide attempt last week. I guess it's just that for so long I've hated myself so much, and there've been many, many a time when I've wanted to - not so much kill myself, as simply not be alive anymore. I believe in reincarnation, so I expect that when I do eventually snap and buy a tank of XXX from some raver friend of mine, and suck the whole thing down, I'll get a fresh start. But there's still so much thrown away, it doesn't just make it that much simpler to finally make the decision. So Thursday (not yesterday) I was in a pretty emo mood already. Depressed, hormonal (I would never say that PMSing could cause suicidal thoughts, but for ME, the hormone surges make it a lot easier for me to -get- depressed about other things, or to get excited about good thing. It's just easier to reach extremes, for me, when I'm hormonal; and I have absolutely no predictable cycle [because of my stress levels], so I never know when I'm genuinely upset, or just being amplified by the hormone levels in my body), and my mother (who's bipolar and in a wheelchair and going senile, and most of why I'm stuck here) was having another irrational screaming fit at me, and I just kind of lost it. I didn't mean to put a hole in the wall. (My father still hasn't even noticed it, the oblivious old jackass.) I did it with my head. It's not the first time. The walls in this house are terribly shitty and made of drywall. But it's been a long time. That wasn't really me trying to kill myself, though. No, was me taking the pots and pans out of the cabinet and trying to bash my head in. I decided a long time ago that when I did kill myself (not if I ever did, but when) that I'd overdose <Mod Edit: Abacus21 - methods>. You giggle, you sleep, you don't wake up. I don't want to hurt myself, I want to be fucking dead, kthx. (I did a lot of cutting, but it was artistic/sexual.) However, lately, all I've been able to think about is bashing my fucking skull in. <Methods> Anything to obliterate the center of my consciousness and without a doubt leave this fucking OVER. I've usually been someone to have suicidal thoughts at bad times, but lately it's been what I fall asleep to, what I wake to. I can't get through a day without bursting into tears, usually over nothing at all. And I kept feeling that way, and feeling that way, and I used to be able to forget for a little while just how much I hate myself and my life, but not anymore. So I guess it built up and I tried to beat my head in with the saucepans. And then the cat's heavy porcelain food dish when my mother took the pans away. She was really freaked out. I've never actually attempted suicide before. I've told people I have, said I was going to, wanted to, thought about it, wrote stories about it, collected pills, studied anatomy, but never actually tried. To say the least I think I did some serious damage. My head still hurts rather a lot and the spots where I was bleeding after the self-beating are still extremely sore. No, she didn't have me committed. (Honestly, she's such a bitch, she told me if I was going to kill myself I'd better not do it in her house and make a mess. And if I really meant to finish the job I would've, in the next few hours hiding alone in my room.) And no, I haven't seen a doctor or anything. I can't afford it. I can't even afford an inhaler for my asthma. And if I saw a shrink they'd put me away on the spot, and frankly, that would be the end of me. I can't deal without my Kat. It's bad enough that she's so far away but if I couldn't talk to her I seriously would be ending it right then and there. And I hate myself even more for constantly thinking about abandoning her, because her father shot himself when she was only ten, and I'm all she's got, but sometimes it's just too much, and... Either way, I'm not really feeling any -better- now, I'm just reaffirmed in my decision to do it in a peaceful, less painful manner when I do finally muster the balls to finish myself off. I'm not strong enough, physically or emotionally, to ACTUALLY bash my head in, and even if she loved me enough to do it for me I wouldn't ask it of her. I believe that everyone has the right to die, that your own life is yours to do with as you wish and that if you genuinely no longer want to be alive then it's up to you, but you'd damn well better make sure it's the decision you want to make. And as much as I hate myself and I want to die, and I don't want to live this miserable little shit-sack of a life anymore, I can't bring myself to leave her alone in this hell. Or to take her with me, although we've discussed a suicide pact. I'm mostly just rambling now. Really, my head hurts. It took me this long to really try to kill myself and after all those years of contemplating the least painful and simplest manner, I try to knock my skull in with the "KITTY LOVES LASAGNA" dish. For someone who's already a 20 on the 1-10 scale of fucked-up, I think I scored a 100 this time. *sigh* Please don't tell me I need help. I'm beyond help, and too poor to pay for it besides. I also don't believe in drugs, because I'd rather be trying to beat my head in than a fucking zombie. Better to feel all that hate than absolutely nothing at all.