What I Learned From My Old Suicide Note
I found it yesterday while looking for my keys and I don’t even remember writing it.
* Content warning: Suicide
I know for what suicide attempt this letter, or series of notes, was written. It was from early 2020 — January, I believe. I don’t remember writing it, but finding it and reading it was so strange. It was under my mattress.
It’s so surreal. There is this sense of “Did I really write this?” and “What was I thinking?”
From this letter, I learned that I definitely was not of sound mind when I attempted suicide earlier this year. Reading it makes me ashamed of myself for taking the situation so casually. I know better than to throw a life away. Still, I can’t judge myself too harshly. In the letter, I describe feelings of pain that I’m so glad I can’t really recall right now.
I’ve said it before. I remember how the pain felt — in logical terms. I can describe the sensations I felt in my body because I have committed the descriptive explanation to memory. I can tell you “Oh, I was so sad. I was devastated.” I can tell you “It felt like grief, with tingly pain radiating down my arms and like there was a hole in my chest.” But to close my eyes and actually recall the feelings, I can’t really do that right now.
