What I know

I know now, with 100 per cent certainty, that I will end my own life.

Not necessarily now, but it will happen.

It’s not even what I want, but I know it to be true. Everything I am, everything I know, everything I feel, points towards it.

The thoughts are so overwhelming and overpowering that I know I will not be able to resist.

But I know I can’t tell anyone because then the wheels will come off in spectacular fashion.

I don’t want to be referred to the crisis team, or admitted, because I don’t need to be. And I don’t want that whole chain of events to be triggered. Social services, home visits, all that shit.

I don’t even want to do this. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave Ian without a wife, and my children without a mother. But it’s something I’m not strong enough to withstand. It’s bigger than me, more powerful than me. I don’t know when it’s going to get to the point that I can no longer stand against it. But I know it’s going to happen.