Suicide – My Note, My Plan by Hugh Cron Adult Content

I would like to get a few things off my chest. I have been asked so many times why I do this. Most of the twats have some knowledge and will always use the healing argument. Well, I am about to explain. No-one else, only me. If you want to know about anyone else, ask them. I would say that your training days have put you close but not quite right. I hurt myself to experience controlled pain. Have you ever hit a wall after you have stubbed your toe? It is something like that. I can’t suffer the pain that is in my head but I can handle the cuts and blood from my arm. Maybe you are right, it does give me release from the problem for a few minutes or hours depending on how ragged the cut is. But please don’t insult me by saying if I watch the wound heal, I am envisaging myself healing, that is a pile of crap. My pain doesn’t go! So no amount of crusty scabs are going to make me feel any better.

I would like to say to anyone who thinks this is a good idea, make sure you do it right. No-one should know. If you wander about holding your bloody arms out for all to see, as far as I am concerned you are just an attention seeking idiot. (No matter what anyone has said, I am not one of them!) If you do get any release from this be organised. Make up a box with plasters, bandages, antiseptic cream. Like your wounds, keep it hidden. I am going to paraphrase the do-gooders. Never cut when pissed or out your tits. You may unintentionally take it too far. Not only that, if you want to do this, you must want to experience the cut. Dulling the pain through booze or drugs is some-what point missing! I once had some social worker ask me if I self-harmed. I ignored the question and she then went on to state that thrill seeking self harm couldn’t be done safely. I stared at her and was quite puzzled. After an awkward silence I asked her to explain. She told me that some people who ran in front of buses or trains were classed as self-harmers and legally she had to advise that doing this could never be done safely. I got up and left.

Apart from giving out some advice another reason that I am writing this is to explain to the health services about their training and involvement with people who are, for want of a better phrase, ‘Fucked up’. Don’t give them buzz words that will bring the services running; all you are asking for is to attract the attention seeking twats. (I do apologise but I hate them. They give us normal nutters a bad name. Don’t get me wrong, ignoring them as many services do, seems logical but I suppose if you are attention seeking all the time, you are not firing on all cylinders anyway. Maybe they are madder than I think.) What I am getting at is if people know that once they mention a note and a plan the services will come running, they will do this day in day out. Assisted suicides would cut out all the idiots and time wasters. If they said that they have left a note and have a plan all you have to answer is ‘Where do you want the injection, arse or arm?’ You wouldn’t see them for dust!   I on the other-hand would be quite happy to accept that. Excuse the sarcasm but MY PLAN is to wait until 3.00am this morning, drink the bottle of vodka that I have under my pillow and swallow all my medication that I have been saving for the last month. And guess what…I haven’t told anyone!! Am I a genius or what?? No, I’m not; I am just determined to die. (All you wannabees…This is how it is done!!! And to all the so called professionals that I have spoken to through the years…I am not an attention seeker! In a few hours you will see that I was quite sincere!!!)

PS

THE NOTE:

I suppose I should state why. I could leave everyone wondering but I don’t want him to have an easy ride. (Not like the multiple ones he got from me when I wasn’t old enough to know what a dickless wonder he was and probably still is! How many are scared away when a little hair begins to sprout?)

I don’t feel clean. I don’t feel complete. I don’t feel worthy. I feel so much rage that I know I will end up hurting or killing someone.

I know it wasn’t my fault. I know that he was the adult. But living, knowing what he has put inside me feels as if it will always be there. I will never get his mess out of me. I feel sick and disgusted. No amount of talking, cutting or scrubbing will ever relieve me of this.

I have now just swallowed my first vodka with a handful of pills so ‘Goodbye’ to whoever is reading my note. I know it won’t be any of my friends, I have none. They all deserted me when things began to get a little awkward. Oh and I will be lying on my back, so if the booze and pills don’t get me, the vomit will. (See! Planning!!)

IF I THOUGHT MY MOTHER NEVER KNEW, I WOULDN’T BE DOING THIS.

Holly.

Hugh Cron