Well, I'm still here. Unfortunately. It wasn't a serious attempt, ended up on a drip for a day or two and a load of stitches. They told me the mental health team would arrange some help for me, but three weeks on and I have heard nothing. It's ok though, I don't need help. I just need to die. They chucked me out of the hospital at 3 am, knowing I had nowhere to go. I guess they needed the bed for someone more deserving, who wants to live and doesn't screw up every waking minute. Fuck I'm whiny today.