28.4.2000

R. gave me a kitchen knife as a present once. She included a packet of aspirin too.
I know she thought it was a good joke. She has even more crooked sense of humour than I do.
Howevver, I can't use aspirin. It makes my ears ring in a most disturbing way but it doesn't help with pain at all. I think I've built up a tolerance to it. One o.d. too many.
Also, we have exactly the same kind of kitchen knife in our kitchen. My father used to cut himself with it (which R couldn't have known though).
The joke didn't amuse me, for some reason.

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Let's talk more about depressing stuff. Long time ago I decided that I'd kill myself with asphyxation hanging. It's a good way of doing it, and I know it works very well. However, there are still other options. This town is full of options. There's the lake, which either works as hypothermia in the winter or drowning in the summer, there's lots of trees I can use to hang myself, there's drugs out there somewhere (but because I don't know how to obtain them, it's not really an option), and then there's the bridge. The bridge used to be my favourite option until I thought of asphyxation hanging. The bridge has been tried and tested many times. Unfortunately, occasionally people survive. But that's not often. I'm not a big fan of falling though, so I'd rather do it otherwise.

I'm quite fascinated by drowning. It should be quite easy. I'm not a good swimmer and if needed, I could get drunk and fake it as an accident. Drowning is one of the major causes of death during the summer. People get drunk and they seem to forget how to swim. Most of them are accidents, though. Or at least labeled as such.
Drowning would presumably hurt but lots of things hurt. And it wouldn't last long. And I'm fascinated with the water. It looks so cold and pure and wondeful, especially this time a year.
I saw one movie once, I can't remember what it was called, that had someone who drowned himself in it. It was wonderful, imho. I liked the movie. It's quite seldom people manage to kill themselves in movies.

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I saved a copy of my website on a disk. I don't know why I think I'd need it if something crashed the computers. I used to save the e-mails B sent to me. I got rid of them some time ago. It was useless. There was no use for them.
I don't want to talk about that.

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There's something that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when someone bothers to talk Finnish. Even more so if they actually have to do something in order to be able to do so. This was last night, of course. Not anymore. But I think I'd still feel warm and fuzzy if I could. But I can't. I woke up thinking of knives. It's not a good way to wake up.

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I read a column on daughter-mother relationships. The writer talks about her mother about everything, it seems. I'm quite jealous of people like that. People who get along with their mothers and fathers and sisters. I mean get along that way that they really can talk about things. I talk to my sister a few times a year when she's home or we go to see her. But it's about things like 'what are we going to eat' and 'it's raining outside again'. I sometimes have real conversations with my mother. About drugs and politics and whatever. They're over very quickly though. She's not the most interesting person to conversate with. And she's not really interested. I talk to my father when I need to go buy food or something. Or when there's something to say about sailing.
Never that much. The relationships aren't close. I have no interest in being close to them, but sometimes I do envy people who are close to someone. A family-thing. There's never been much of a family.

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I was in the same class with M.K. for the last three years of elementary school. We didn't get along at all, but we never tried either. In fact, I got along with no one in that class. The problem there was that 50% of the pupils were hopeless. They'd bitch at the teachers and at everyone else, and generally rebel, the way 13-15 year old (retarded) people do.
Anyway, during my last year there, M.K. used to sit in front of me in Finnish class. At some point, for some reason (I can't remember why, which is annoying) someone asked him whether I was crying. We stared each other straight in the eye for ages, it felt like. It must've taken quite long, because the class got suddenly quiet & interested. I don't know why they paid attention to such a thing. Anyway, it ended up in he having to turn away. It wasn't meant to be a fight of any kind, I just looked back at him when he was trying to check me out. He announced that I wasn't crying and paid no attention to me ever again. I think he was quite embarrassed. Which he should've been because he was a jerk.
I don't know why I remember such a thing. He had green eyes with brown spots. Heh.
Anyway, last year when I was in some entrance exam or other (which I did pass btw, I just didn't want to go there), there was a roll call and they announced his name. No one answered and I didn't see anyone like him there, so he wasn't around. It's just... absurd. I don't know why but thinking of the situation makes me quite amused.

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I'm quite sure that everything I've done this whole year has resulted in only two things, I have another suicide-plan and my handwriting with my left hand has improved (bearing in mind that I do most of my writing with my right hand). So... I'm feeling pretty useless today.

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I'm fascinated with dying again. The water fascinates me. I don't know why I never end up killing myself. I've wanted to do it so many times. I feel so lame.
It's apparently hope that keeps me alive. People talk about it, curse it. I'm good at disctracting myself in pointless daydreams. If I wasn't so good at it I might be dead already. Although I wouldn't count on it too much. B wasn't good at daydreaming and he isn't dead either (as far as I know). It's just… I don't know why. I don't know why I don't do it. There's the hope-factor but I can get past it. Then there's something else. Genetics, maybe. Humans are programmed not to kill themselves. Which is understandable but not at all nice.
Ugh. I don't know. Surely it doesn't matter that much.

I'm going to bed soon. Before that I'm going to intoxicate (only a bit, no reason to worry) myself with painkillers. It's easier that way.
And if I don't update tomorrow that's because I have lots of stuff to do.

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"Welcome to nowhere fast
Nothing here ever lasts
Nothing but memories
Of what never was
[---]
Living makes me sick
So sick I wish I'd die"

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