Yesterday I was supposed to go to see a clinical psychologist. I got as far as the door to the office when I lost it. I tore up the referral and went home again. This morning I have a new plan. At the moment I lead two lives. One at work, where I am relatively sociable and have a good time, and the other at home where I have no friends, nothing to do and struggle with suicidal thoughts. The reason I struggle with those thoughts is because I don’t want to kill myself, but here’s where my plan kicks in. I have accepted the fact that one day I am going to kill myself. Some people are still born, others just aren’t meant to live. But does that mean my impending suicide should ruin the rest of my life? I’m not going to struggle anymore. I just want to make the most of what I’ve got left. So I’m going to restructure my two lives. In one life I shall be happy. I shall be sociable. And I will ignore the voice inside that wants me to die. In the other life I will plan my suicide – actually it’s already planned but I need to make a change of materials. When it’s time to me to die then at least I will have had one decent life. When I finally lose it I don’t want to hurt anybody else. If I have a plan in place with the equipment ready then I won’t do anything stupid. So I’m off to build my fake life. I’m not going to take my meds, they just remind me that I’m depressed. I’m not going to see the doc, his opinion doesn’t matter. I am capable of living a happy life. I just need to suppress this until I’m ready to die.
Folly
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