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i remember the first time i seriously attempted suicide. before I got any help of any kind. I do not think I ever really honestly wanted to die. I simply could not find a way to escape all that I was going through. yes, the cutting was a wonderful temporary release from the insanity inside my head. but it ended up never being enough. the scariest day of my life. I had felt more destructive than ever. I really wanted to tear something up. if I'd had enough courage, I would have done it across my wrist. but I was scared. of all the consequences of dying. I had been raised southern baptist. taught that committing suicide does not get you into heaven. rather, hell. so something deep inside me always kept me from doing it. I got so close to the edge every time but there was something holding on to my belt loop. as I tottered at the edge. waiting to lose my balance. so I felt really destructive. I took the boxknife and attacked the outside of my right arm. I chose the spot. and dug in. the cut went an inch deep. two inches long. I did not hit any major viens, but I could tell I needed stitches.
I can still feel the same way I felt that day when I think back to it. it was so exhilerating. to watch the blood pour out of that wound. I never got the stitches I needed. the scar is still bright and puffy. even after so many years. but really that attempt is not the reason I created this page. I tried to overdose on pain killer. heh. I looked up online what it would do to me after I took all those pills. I was sad and a little relieved that it really did nothing. except to enhance your nerves. so you feel more. that was the last time I tried anything. I realized that I never really wanted to die in the first place. cutting was the only way I could ever have to deal with my inner turmoil.
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