[ WP ] Suicidal person realizes he can not die

Well, it's not the most usual line of work, and it does n't pay much, but I am definitely a whole lot happier than I was. It started at the absolute lowest point of my life. Actually, I think the day before the lowest, because the lowest was the next morning. On the day I tried to die, I was really depressed. Clinically depressed, it's called. Every thought I had revolved around what a terrible person I was, how I deserved to die, how I wanted it to just end. I would think briefly how much happier people would be when I was gone, but I realise now that I actually barely thought about other people at all. I was basically mad with pain and not thinking straight, even if the pain was emotional rather than physical. 
 
 So I jumped in front of a train. It was n't even a decision, not really. I was trying to get to my doctor and I suddenly could n't face the idea of telling someone who had been so blank the last time, what was going through my head now. It was my only way out, but it just seemed impossibly hard, and there was n't any future that was worth having. And then the tube was on its way in and I was jumping before I'd even decided what to do next. 
 
 It was like being smacked really hard into a giant speaker. It did n't hurt, not at first. Just this THUMP. And then I landed, and I thought this is it, I'll land on the rails or get sliced up. But I sort of rolled under the train for quite a long time. I could smell oil and metal more than anything. I do n't remember seeing the driver. I'm really, really sorry about the driver. I just was n't thinking at all, not about anything. I did n't know I was going to jump. I definitely did n't go there to jump. 
 
 And then I lay there for a really long time, and the physical pain started, and you know what? I felt a lot better. I really hurt, physically, all over. It made the endless thoughts finally shut up for a while. I was thinking this is it, I am dying. I could n't smell any blood, or really feel anything either, other than that I was hurt. I was just lying there while people moved around, cleared the platform, rolled the train forward. 
 
 The other passengers were really angry and upset. I could n't make out words, but they did n't sound happy. I should have gone for paracetamol, except I did n't actually plan to kill myself at all. It just sort of happened. Anyway, the lights came back on and I had police looking down at me. I was blinking in the lights and one of the men swore and then went and threw up. It really stank. Another man kneeled down and asked if I could hear him, and I said yes, and a woman was talking into her radio, but I could n't make it out. The police man told me not to move. And eventually paramedics came and put me in an ambulance. They made me not look at anything. All I could see was yellow blocks either side of my head, and this woman's face, a paramedic, telling me I was going to be okay. I met her again later on and I did n't recognise her until she said hello, and then I burst out crying. It was really embarrassing, for all different reasons. 
 
 Anyway, the rest is all in the news, if you want to look. I made a miracle recovery, and now you ca n't tell anything had ever happened. I did get to see a psychiatrist without a referral. Most people were really good about it. I just felt so awful about what I'd done to everyone and how much time I'd wasted. I got lots of post, but nobody would let me read most of it. I got a lot of hate mail and threats, and my parents got it too. Dad was shouting at me how I was ruining things for him and mum, how they were going to have to move and it was all my fault, and then some nurses came in and he left and I did n't see him again, or mum, or anyone really. Mum sent me a card, but I did n't reply and she did n't send another. 
 
 Anyway, I was back on my feet with all my arms and legs and everything back after twenty four hours, and I thought fuck. I'm back exactly where I was before. I got really high off the morphine until they realised what was going on and I could n't have any more, and I missed it. I missed not feeling anything and not giving a damn. And I spent a while in a loony bin, which was n't as bad as I thought it would be, even with all the nutters. It was mostly really boring. I talked about what had happened and after a couple of weeks I was let out to go into therapy, CBT. I ca n't remember what it stands for, but you think different about things and it helps put life in a different aspect, and it's really good if you can keep going to it. But I think people need more help right at the start, because once a week is n't enough, not when you're really bad. 
 
 So anyway, yeah, I think it was about a week after that when I went around and got loads of paracetamol and tried again. I spent the whole day going around London, just getting pills at different supermarkets and shops. I thought somehow the pharmacies would pick up what I was doing but I did n't think supermarkets would care. Going around buying stuff to kill myself, it was the happiest I'd ever been. It's sad, really. Honestly, I was actually smiling and everything. At first I was worried a reporter would find the Miracle Girl but I was only in a couple of tabloids and I looked really different, with my hair cut short right after I got out of the hospital. 
 
 So yeah, that was a really rotten week. Do n't commit suicide with paracetemol. It feels really, really bad. Like, worse than getting hit by a train, and I would know. I did n't tell anyone, and I feel really crappy that nobody checked up on me, even at therapy when I missed going. I just sort of slipped through the net. I definitely took enough pills to die. It was more than a thousand. 
 
 Anyway, that was when I realised I could n't die. I could be hurt, but I always got better really quickly. Slower for poison, quicker if I really fucked myself up. It got a bit mad after that, after more people realised what was going on and I hit the national press. I did n't have any money, and I did n't know what to do with all the post. I could n't get any emails or go on Twitter. 
 
 People offered me loads of money for my story. There was this one reporter, he was from this terrible newspaper, and I thought it would be awful talking to him, but I thought back then I deserved to feel awful all the time. But he was really nice, and I just opened up about everything that was going on. Just talking about it, what was going on and why I kept trying to kill myself, it helped. Like, I realised it just was n't ever going to change. I realised that the only time I was actually properly happy was when I was getting things together for another attempt, because that was the only time I was really looking out for myself. It's screwed up, but I felt terrible and I was just trying to feel better. 
 
 Anyway, this reporter said there's all this evidence that you just ca n't die, so why not do some stunts? I think he said have you thought about going into stunts or extreme sports. But you need to be really fit for those, and if I was motivated to get fit, well, I would n't be depressed, would I. But I did get a camera and start putting the videos on YouTube. I got in so much trouble for that. Liveleak was showing them, but I was n't getting a penny, then someone offered to set up a domain, and the advertising, and I could afford a lawyer just with interviews. I did twenty videos before I gave up. I got some really weird fans. 
 
 So it was after all that, that's when that reporter got back to me. He'd been doing this bit about how people doing hazardous clean up on things like nuclear accidents and chemical accidents die really early, and he thought of me, but we could n't work out how to sort out training. But that was the first time I actually had something I wanted to really do, and it turns out it makes all the difference. 
 
 I really got into the CBT, and tried different pills which were horrible, but I was warned they could be. I just kept trying new ones until I found one that worked and did n't make me fat or a zombie. Six months after getting onto sertraline I was getting my life back together. I stopped doing the videos, and people forgot really quickly that I even existed. I tried with the fire department and the army. That reporter was amazing, he knew all these people. He wanted to make a long feature out of it, but I think if he had n't cared at least a little he would n't have worked so hard to get me on the right path. 
 
 And now I've got a life. It pays fuck all, honestly, especially considering I've already died three times, but I've got a job, got a degree even, and I love what I do. Obviously I ca n't talk about it in any detail, but yeah, the Navy really came through for me. 
 
 I think killing myself was the best thing I ever did. But obviously it wo n't work for everyone and really, you should n't try it. I've not heard of anyone else like me, so you'll probably just die.
