67 days left...

I am an idiot.

My mother came to get some of my laundry today since I sprained my ankle and can't really walk properly, so I just gave her the clothes I had worn the week before. Then I suddenly realized (like two hours too late) that I had left my suicide note - the one I included in yesterday's blog, in my jeans.

So the last few hours I've just been sitting here in my room wondering if she found it, which she probably did, and if so; wondering how she reacted to it. I mean seriously, what could be worse for a suicidal person than to have the people around her uncover her plans before they're executed (pun not intended)? This is even worse than a failed suicide attempt! It's a suicide attempt failed in such a degree that it hasn't even happened yet! I am such an idiot.

I feel obliged to tell my readers that because of this I have taken serious measures. Supposing that my mother found out, if she comes to talk to me about it and takes it seriously - not thinking it was some kind of stupid joke, I will be killing myself that same day. I simply can't risk her having me put in some institution where they'll "keep me from harming myself".

So if this is the last day I write this blog, you know why.

Thanks for reading, all!



Tania

68 days left

Seeing as how I'm going to be spending some time in bed with my foot on a pile of pillows, I decided I might as well spend this otherwise wasted time doing something useful. So I already started writing my suicide letters.

Here's one I just wrote for my mother just now (go easy on me, it's a rough draft):

"Dear mum

I left you three voicemails today and you still didn't answer. I am tired of being ignored by you so I decided to kill myself.

Your daughter,

Tania."

And there I'll be, dead besides it. I know many people won't understand this, but my mother has the greatest (and I mean the greatest) sense of humor; and if she turns the letter over it will say:

"Sorry, that was my final joke to you, cause I didn't want to leave with a tear, but with a smile. Note that I didn't kill myself because of you, of course, so no frowns!

Love

Tania"

*Sigh*

I'm still working on it though.

69 days left...

I sprained my ankle pretty bad today.

Now, for the record, I'm not the type to go crying when bad things happen, but truth be told I've been crying my eyes out for the last few hours. Not so much because of the physical pain of the injury though, cause even though it's really severe it's nothing compaired to the emotional and mental suffering this incident has brought me.

I am now facing the prospect of having to sit at home and do nothing for days, maybe weeks, that's right, weeks; that's how bad I may have sprained my ankle. And every time I walk I have to use crutches now. Crutches! And now I also have to have X-rays taken of my foot to make sure nothing's broken. I think I probably broke my entire foot, cause that's just logical, it's Murphy's Law; which is kind of the only law my life seems to abide by religiously.

God, I wish I was dead already.

Sadly enough I made a promise to you readers and due to it I will be alive for 71 more days, crutches or no crutches. So curse you all, cause my life just started sucking a whole lot more.

Everything just sucks.

70 days left...

Today I changed my mind.

All of you who have been reading my blog for a while now know that I have always been of the opinion that people didn't really matter, we're not really special, suicide doesn't really mean anything, etc. etc. But I had a revelation today, and due to it I changed my mind.

I do matter. I am special. I am a 'beautiful and unique snowflake'! And I feel great about it!

Seriously, the more I think about it the more I know that I do contribute to this world, that I do have something to offer and that I will be thoroughly missed if I would actually kill myself. I mean, just to sum up a few of my qualities: I take care of my little sister, I write prose and poetry, I draw, I sing, I've acted in amateur feature films, and I've even directed one of my own - which I never really finished but still. I'm adding a clip to this blog from the movie I directed, to showcase my talents, lest I be called a liar. :p

So yeah, I am a multi-talented and valuable individual. I no longer feel worthless, I no longer feel empty.

Don't get my wrong though, I'm still going to kill myself, cause life still sucks. I just feel better about it knowing that I'll be missed. :)

71 days left...

You know how it's strange that when you think about a certain something long and hard enough, you start seeing clues and references to it everywhere? I have the exact same thing with the whole suicide deal. I swear that every single day I see or hear someone speaking out against suicide or referring to it as this unspeakable act of heresy.

Today I walked by the train tracks where a 14 year old kid had committed suicide exactly one year ago. There were flowers and poems scattered on the floor, some swept away by the wind, some trampled by other people. There was a church's flyer there too, which stated plain and simple that Eric (the boy) would not be allowed to enter the gates of heaven due to his blasphemous act.

Maybe I'll just kill myself with my little sister's crayons when I finally do it, make it look like she killed me; then I'll get to go to heaven and she'll take the fall. Punked! :p

Seriously though, as I was saying, if there is a God - which personally I highly doubt - he is obviously trying to rub it in, but I'll be glad to give him the finger in 72 days. Heaven is overrated anyways, and hell can't possibly be 'much' worse than my life.

72 days left...

Sometimes I wonder how I'm going to keep my readers entertained for so many days before I actually take the plunge. I mean, it's not like something interesting happens every day here and most of my days actually suck, so that's kind of an inspiration killer.

But then again, maybe it's better you guys get bored of my slow paced and utterly boring trip towards the grave, cause if no one reads my blog anymore, maybe I can just get it over with already. That's right, you guys are what's keeping me alive for another 72 days, so pat yourselves on the back for being philanthropic.

In any case, Brad send me flowers today. How cliché is that, right? I told him I didn't want any flowers right now, but that if he really wanted to give me some, he should wait 72 days, and then he could bring me fresh ones every week, lol. He didn't really get it of course.

Call me cruel but I love cracking jokes like that. Like the other day my philosophy professor told me that since I had skipped half of his classes already he wasn't going to allow me to take my final exam. I replied that if he didn't change his mind by May, I would kill myself because of it.

Which is totally funny cause now he'll think it's his fault when I kill myself.

Serves him right.

73 days left...

Another day in the life of a walking dead girl. *Ponders what to write.*

Today was the day of ironies, actually. Brad e-mailed me again this morning. He had this very lengthy way of saying that he felt our time together on Valentine's Day was very special, and how he felt we really connected. He eventually concluded (to make a long story short) that he was in love with me.

Can you say emo?

Seriously though, I just replied that I'm too busy to go out now but that I'll probably have time in 74 days, when my work will be over. Tee-hee, he's got a surprise coming there.

Besides that, the second irony is that my little sister got a cast today, apparently she broke her wrist during her school trip, she's been crying all day but luckily she's asleep now. We share a room together and I kind of look after her when I'm not too busy blogging or writing poetry. Anyway, the irony of this is that her cast is coming off the week after I kill myself, and she asked me today to promise that we'd go play mini-golf then (she loves to play that game).

I promised her.

But I'm going to have to break that promise.

So, if you read this after I'm gone, Sarah, you go and have a good game of mini-golf without me, and remember to swing from the shoulder.