My stomach is filled with butterflies, my limbs bear a nervous buzzing and I struggled to sleep last night. It can only mean one thing:
Today’s the day.
It’s time for me to do that thing I’ve promised myself I would do weeks ago, it’s time to take those pills and to execute my plan. Whether this has been careful planning or impulse evades me – my plans have changed last minute, to a more rash but somehow less scary route.
I know I could reach out. I know I could seek help. But sometimes, I also know that I need to do this. My drug of choice is unlikely to be lethal, at least not to me as my body metabolises it ridiculously fast (that’s a story for another time), but I’m still hoping to do some serious damage if I can.
I see my MHO later today and my plan is to inform her if I get concerningly ill – but seeing her won’t stop me, seeing my guidance teacher won’t stop me, seeing friends won’t stop me. Nothing can stop me now.
Yesterday I was scared, reluctant to go through with it all but today, today I’m calm, collected. Nervous but excited. Excited for this all to be over for another few months. Excited to prove them wrong.
But deep down, I know I’ll be okay. I’ve known that with certainty for some time now, I’ve known that the likelihood of dying is slim, so I’ve changed my goals to doing damage. I know where help is if I go too far, if for some reason this time round I get sick I’ll tell somebody and go to hospital, it will all be okay. It will all be okay. It will all be okay.