A letter from Oct 26th, 2021

dear future gray, are you even alive? do you exist? do you still wake up each morning wishing you didn't, or have you finally ended it? if you do exist, then good job. I applaud you. If you don't...well. This is awkward. I'm writing to a ghost. I currently wish I were a ghost. There's no trigger, I wish people would understand that--there /can/ be triggers, but for me, it's just...there. A few days ago (yesterday? two days ago? Three? I can't tell anymore), I looked at what's in tylenol and painkillers and looked up how much I'd need to overdose. I hear overdose hurts, so that's more last-resort. My Halloween costume includes ropes. I could hang myself...yeah, right. I'm 150 lbs. My ceiling couldn't handle that ****. I've got a razor. I've got a bathtub I can fill. Those are my biggest thoughts. The razor mainly, because I know how to cut myself and I know what it feels like so it's not an uncertainty. I know it hurts. I know the pain wouldn't last that long. Drowning is a big last resort because it'd take a while and it'd hurt. If we had sleeping pills I'd take a ton and then sink into the bathtub and drown in my overdose. But...yk. That'd hurt. I just don't want to feel pain anymore. So tell me, Grayson, how do I stop the pain? Will I make it long enough to stop the pain? ARE YOU STILL ALIVE? I just wish I could know. Have an ounce of hope, you know? well. thanks anyway. ****** hate ya, gray 10/26/21 13 years old eighth grade