Why I Am Still In Mortal Danger, Or Help, I Don't Want To Die

The first time I tried to commit suicide was in 2009, when after about four years I had to acknowledge that it was unlikely that I would be receiving medical help. I tried strangulation, but failed and afterwards I learned to suppress the sadness, rage, anger, fear and other negative emotions associated with getting persecuted for having the nerve to be myself. The persecution and my despair at it only got worse after that.

January of this year I tried to commit suicide again, this time with an overdose of sleeping pills. The reasons were multiple. First the same reasons as for the first attempt, combined with me losing what I at that moment considered to be my home. I survived this attempt as well and tried to find a solution to my situation, eventually acknowledging that I was being persecuted and that my only option was to leave this country.

The past few days I hadn't been feeling all too well. For weeks I have had this strange, nauseating headache, probably induced by the stress caused by all the uncertainties regarding whether I'll be able to make it out of this country alive or not. After multiple weeks of trying to arrange things and only have a temporary visa to show for it, I have zero faith in me actually getting out of this alive.

PTSD flashbacks have been getting worse. I often find myself back in jail, experiencing the despair of utter hopelessness. Then I snap out of it and realize that my current situation isn't much better. I'm completely at the mercy of others at this point, and they at least to me seem more than happy to let me rot in this jail called the Netherlands. Every shred of hope I cling to gets ripped away. It now seems unlikely that I'll be able to get a job in Australia. The family of this friend of my mother hasn't responded after weeks, even after me sending an email myself, probably because they don't want to deal with a freak like me. Maybe it's all inside my head, and everything will turn out fine, but I can say without lying that nothing up till this point has worked out and that my situation has only grown increasingly more desperate.

Last night I went to bed feeling kind of down. I had been suffering from terrible pains in my wrists and hands that day to the point where I had to take double my normal dose of painkillers to deal with it. Once in bed I began to slip into a flashback-like state, which wasn't a flashback. I was imagining committing suicide by stabbing myself with a knife. I could feel everything, find myself longing to carry this out for real, and not finding myself rejecting the idea at all.

I tried to fight against this idea, but it literally is like fighting a bear. It is that I don't bruise easily, or my entire chest would be completely blue and black. All one can see of my struggles are the nail marks where I dug into the skin of my abdomen and tried to rip chunks out. It was so terrifying. I didn't know whether I was going to win this time. I so badly want to live, but it just doesn't seem possible. A third suicide attempt seems inevitable at this point, and I'm almost ready to surrender to the idea.

Yesterday a friend sent out a message on Twitter asking for people to find me a job and safety in Australia, but it was already the second time she did this. I am not expecting anything of it. Everybody around me will just keep living their lives which really aren't that bad, even if they complain a lot about it.

I am disgusted with my body. It's not human. I can not place it. It's not accepted. It's not acceptable. I can't see my own family as such, because they are normal, and I am some kind of alien freak.

It would probably be best if I did kill myself for real this time. I'm just futily keeping myself going with the razor-thin veil of hope that people around me do want me to exist. If I commit suicide it is because I'll be convinced that everybody wants me to die, or doesn't care one bit about my existence. Why do I have to die again? What is my crime? Clearly this body is the reason why I have to die, and my crime is existing. Obviously. I wonder why I didn't see this before?

I fuckin' hate this all...


Maya