Straight Razors

I wouldn’t say I’m suicidal. I’ve done a lot of research lately on the whole topic of suicide. The signs are loss of interest of activities, withdrawing socially, change of appearance, risk taking, giving away possessions, and more symptoms. I’m not doing those, though. I cut my hair a long time ago, so my change in appearance isn’t new. I’ve lost interest in writing and reading a while ago because I just couldn’t concentrate. I haven’t been risky. I haven’t given away anything. No signs. The last sign is usually going from an upset state of mind to calm. I feel in a way that I can only describe as monotone. 

From what I’ve read in a clinical matter, patients usually talk about death before committing suicide. They have a plan. Then one day, they show up fine. Then they’re dead. For me, I talk in a way where I seem so unsure and attention needing. I have so many plans running in my head. Some episodes of feeling terrible, I plan on chemicals. Sometimes meds. Sometimes cutting.

Now, it’s different. I’ve been carefully learning how to do this properly. I wrote out letters a while ago. I stated who got what of my belongings. Even my cat was thought of. At first I thought I would use safety blades to slit my veins. I did a test run. On my wrist, I sliced along a vein. It went deep after I ran the blade over the same spot a few times. The problem was that I’m a weakling for pain. My wrist and hand were shaking too much as I prepared to test my blade.

I didn’t want to hit a vein, I just needed to try it out and see what I need to prepare for. I can only take so much pain, as already stated, so slitting my artery is going to be hard with just a cheap safety blade. The blades weren’t made with great quality like they used to be.

Half a year ago, I just took apart disposable razors to injure myself. Then my therapist was being honest with me and said if I wanted to do real damage, I could just actually by blades. I know it wasn’t meant to be encouraging me, but that’s what it felt like. So now, I have these blades that my therapist mentioned. They won’t do the job for someone who is easily terrified. 

Straight razor. I’ve done so much reading on these. On some websites, people that self injure admit they didn’t use straight razors anymore because it was scary how deep they went. It “practically sinks into your skin.” This is perfect. It would be a simple slice and I couldn’t chicken out once I try.

 I’ve spent so much time going store to store looking for them. I’ve looked at straight razors online. I can get one that’ll do the job for under 15 dollars. Apparently, Walmart, CVS, Walgreens, and a bunch of other places carry them. I’ve gone to so many stores, staring and looking through the razor area. I’m so desperate that even after therapy, I went across the street to a place that could have them.

I haven’t had any luck. In fact, on a Walmart run yesterday (which was also after therapy), I was in the way of a man so I apologized. After a second thought, I turned to him and said “You’re a man, do you think you could help me?” He said he didn’t see any straight razors and explained they are also called cut-throat razors. We chatted about England after he spoke about his country. Then, he recommended the best razors to find on Amazon and said, “I’m guessing you’re looking for your dad for Father’s Day?” 

I felt the need to cry and tell him the truth. Instead, I nodded and after a little conversation, I left. Another bust. It seems I have to purchase one online, but I am hesitant because I do not want it to show up on my bank statement. Also, I don’t want it to show up on my front porch step and my parents ask why. I’ll continue looking for a straight blade. 

But even without a straight blade, killing myself keeps running through my mind. With all the information in my mind, I could kill myself in just five minutes by being alone. I refuse, so I must not be suicidal. The truth is, slitting wrists is one of least lethal ways to commit suicide. I feel like it will be lethal with me. I’m not a clueless teenager who thinks slicing horizontally will kill me. That’ll cut tendons and the veins will clot up. Without being able to use my hand, I wouldn’t be able to slit my other wrist. 

Slitting my wrists is almost a “comforting” way to die. I have cut myself so many times. It’ll be too normal. Less panicky. It’s just a simple “motion” for me. I put my pointer finger on my wrist (thumbs pulse so I can’t use them)  and feel my heartbeat. That’s where the artery is. I’ll have to drink lots of water the day before so I can have more blood flow. Usually, I assumed I would take a hot bath when I kill myself because it plumps up the veins. However, that is not an option.

Once I slit my arteries, I’ll go for my neck. I’m still learning the anatomy of where other arteries are. I know there are some in the groin area. 

I just spend so much time on the Internet researching suicide topics. I read other people’s experiences from surviving or losing a family member. I read articles on the lethality of some suicide methods. I can even place a bag over my head and breathe in helium. It wouldn’t hurt, just make me pass out and then die. It’s the only painless method I have heard. 

So many thoughts running in my head. I’ve spent so much time staring at my wrist and memorizing the details of it and how it reacts to how I move it. I’m trying to understand. I don’t want to fuck up…. but then there are moments of clarity. Suddenly, I’m scared of dying. I feel alive for a little bit. Then, (almost out of the blue) I feel like a different person. I’m not scared. I find myself laying the razor across my wrist and staring. I don’t feel like myself. I’m suddenly alive but my body is not in the sense that I feel solemn. I see her. I see her sitting with blades and she is a mystery to me but I can still feel how she feels. 

You’ve seen me around school or maybe even the local market. You saw me when I was crying. Perhaps you bagged my grocceries. Maybe you were standing next to me as my sleeve lifted up to pay the groccery employee. You may have been the person who brushed shoulders with me when hurrying through the school yard.

You all have had the same thoughts. She’s just another depressed attention seeker. She only wears black because she’s “emo.” She’s always pathetically crying. I heard she cuts herself. Someone told me she was in the sheriff’s car. 

Some of you had the chance to make a difference. Like the cashier who took my money when I purchased a bottle of tea and single edge razor blades. Like the person who sat next in the desk next to me at high school when I was crying. Like the person who saw me rocking back and forth from anxiety. Like the person who saw my arms. 

Someone could have said something. It’s easy to say, “Hey, I know things are tough, but it’ll be alright,” as I bought blades. It’s also easy to say, “Can I help?” As I cried. 

I come from a small town. Everyone knows me or has seen me. I’ve lived here since I was in 2nd grade. I started hurting myself while living here. I started hallucinating while I was here.

Teachers have seen me crying. So have councilers, medical proffesionals, and even psychologists.

Someone… someone could have helped. You all could have helped. Instead, I’ve been banned to hell.


Right now my cousin is slurping water out of ice. She’s also sniffling from a past cold. Everytime she swings her chair, she kicks a foot against the cabinet.

My brother is outside talking. The swing chair squeaks everytime he pushes forward and swings backwards.

My sister is sniffling. She keeps clicking the buttons on her phone to take screen shots.

The television in the back of this house is blaring. Someone slammed a door back there. I can also hear the air conditioner wheezing.

While the clock keeps ticking, my cousin hitting the cabinet, my sister sniffling, and my brother is swinging, I realize I want to scream. I want silence. I need silence.

I don’t like hearing noises. Crowds drive me nuts. Someone breathing gets on my nervous. Hearing music makes my brain scream. The sound of someone playing a video over the car radio makes me want to drive the car into a tree. Dogs licking themselves is also an irritant.

When Starlight sucks on my teeth, another nerve is shot. When my grandma’s husband plays the television louder so no one can talk, I want to hit him. Hearing my cousin urge the dog to be wild hurts my brain.

Sensory over load. I need silence. The slightest noise can send me over the edge to the point where I cry and scream.

A Whole Lot of You’s

It takes you five minutes to drive to my house.

It takes you three minutes to read an email, look up my address, and call 9-1-1.

It takes you one minute to walk upstairs to my room.

It takes you ten seconds to ask why I left.

It takes you one minute to call my phone to see how I am doing.

It takes less than five minutes to save a life.

I Could

Right now I could drive to the lake. I could bring my razors with me. I could bring all my new medications with me. I could bring the bleach with me. I could bring a lighter with me. I could put on some makeup. I could tell my parents I am going out with Starlight. I could take a picture of my face while smiling and tell Starlight I’m going out with my parents. 

I could send my letter to my therapist. I could arrive at the lake and stare at it until it grows dark. I could sit around my murders and choose which ones I will use. I could abandon my car and walk to the lake. I could sit in the water and take the pills. I could burn holes into my skin. I could drink bleach. I could cut my arteries. 

I could die. I could stop feeling this pain in my heart. I could be found the next day as a search party started. I could be found in the lake. I could be bitten by fish. I could be smelling of bleach. I could be shredded by razors. 

I could do this. I should do this. I need to do this.


I cried myself to sleep today. I contemplated suicide today. I almost threw up today. I almost hurt myself today. I was alone today. No one came to my rescue today. I screamed into my fist today. I skipped my meds today. I almost revised my suicide note today. I was alone today. I hated myself some more today. I thought about calling 9-1-1 today. I wish I could have seen my therapist today. The voices were loud today. The people I see threatened me today. I was uncontrollably angry today. I hated myself today. I am still alive today. I wish I was dead today. No one asked how I was doing today. No one gave me a hug today. Starlight didn’t want to see me today. 

There’s a few more hours left in today. I could slit my arteries today. I could drink bleach today. I could hang myself today. I could lay down on the train tracks today. I could buy more razors today. I could shoot myself today. I could get hospitalized today. I could email my therapist today. I could cry for help today. I could take all my medications today. I could kill someone today.  I could end my pain today.

I have. I could. I want to. Today. 

Song of the Day: I Love the Darkness In You

“Every time I see you there
In the pale moonlight
Dancing there all alone

With a grave in your mind
She’s in parties with the flashlights
She’s got cemetery eyes
I love the darkness in you

So dirty
So blue
Every time I meet you there
In the silvery light
Dancing like all is gone

But the Hell in your mind
She’s in parties with the flashlights
She’s got cemetery eyes
I love the darkness in you

So dirty
So blue
Darkness in you
So fuckin’ dirty
And blue
You buried me so deep
I couldn’t never believe”

I Love the Darkness In You, The 69 Eyes

Moving On: Fuck Food (Part Two)

It’s been a while since food has become my enemy.

I know how to live this lifestyle. I’ve been reading and reading on how to lose weight quickly. I’m not trying to start an eating disorder, but I feel like starving is a great way to punish myself while becoming pretty.

I just see these ugly legs, fat face, disgusting stomach…It’s giving me panic attacks. For a while, I convinced myself I deserved to eat. I’ve changed my mind. I’m creating a routine of a lot of exercise and water.

It’ll be hard to find healthier food to eat with low calories, but I can just not eat very much. I need those instant results. I’m not sure whether to tell my therapist or not. If he notices, maybe I’ll talk about it. I’ve been known to feel like passing out in his office before.

I’m excited about this part of moving on. I can be so much skinnier. I’m looking forward to it. I used to drink nothing but tea and I’m going to do it again. No one needs to know. It’s no one’s business. It’s going to be okay.

Moving On: Deleting (Part One)

Internet History: Deleted

Facebook: Deleted

Texts: Deleted

Phone Calls: Deleted

I tried to delete most of my “digital life.” I hated Facebook, it just aggravated me and poked through my information on my phones. If I got bored, I immediately went to Facebook without even thinking about it. Now, it’s completely gone and I’m extremely happy.

I can’t reach out to people. I don’t have their numbers, only Facebook connected us which meant that I wasn’t really that close to anyone. The only numbers in my phone are Starlight, family, doctors, and like three people who don’t otherwise fit into those categories. It’s sad, but it’s the way I live my life.

I deleted texts, phone calls, and Internet history to get a better start on being different. I’m hurting inside and I’m moving on from trying to be helped. I don’t need to associate myself. I think it’s okay to isolate myself. I don’t really care anymore about me being social. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.

I am liking this idea of even more isolation, but it isn’t the only decision I have come to.