classify text [harassment, self-harm, religion insult, sexist, hate, racist, safe for work, psychiatric or mental illness, porn]

teks: Finally set a date!Heads up: This sucks. I find it comforting, but it sucks. I am by no means advocating for suicide. I just had to tell someone. I don't want to be judged or pitied or guilted. I just need someone to listen and make me feel sane for a bit.

Also using my main account cause... well... it doesn't fucking matter anymore.

Now, without further ado...

Over the past few months my suicidal ideation has spiked through the roof. Whoop whoop! Odd, considering how great my life has been. I got an amazing job, had an amazing support system, and was doing pretty well with the boys. Went to the gym 6 days a week, ate healthy, had financial stability, and I loved and felt love. Yet, I want nothing more than to fucking die - thanks genes, you did me dirty like you did my grandfather who also killed himself.

I always knew I was suicidal, but was always religious enough to not commit to it. Cause God sends people who suffer from mental illness to a place of eternal torment (/s). So for unrelated reasons I became an atheist about a a year ago. Since then, the thought of an afterlife slowly started dissipating from my head. With that, the ever growing *I could die and it wouldn't matter* started popping more and more frequently. My breaking point was in May when I sat down and committed myself to buying a gun but got too sleepy to drive all the way to the nearest store. I slept, felt better in the morning, and thought that I better get help.

My motivation was my incredible and beautiful circle of friends and family. They deserve a try, it thought. Thus, I sought professional help and started getting medicated, but I still felt suicidal a month later (even if it isn't as bad as it was prior to that).

Anyways. I set a date yesterday and it's been the most exhilarating feeling ever. I have never felt so alive before. Today, I created a list of contacts I want to write letters to. This is reserved to the people I truly love and will regret causing this much pain to. I am now at 16 letters, including family. I plan on throwing away the rest of my pills tonight. I don't want to hesitate when the time comes. I'll be ordering a gun online. Probably a rifle since it's cheaper. Plus, I'm not 21, which in PA means I'm not allowed a handgun.

I'll be dying on the 24th of August. It's the Saturday before university starts. I wanted as much time as possible to make memories with the people I love. Not for my sake, but for theirs. I never want any of them to feel as though they could've done better. No one could have.

This really does suck. There's SO much I wanted to do. I wanted to write a fantasy novel with some  LGBTQ representation. I wanted to travel the world. I wanted to start my own company. Maybe even run for political office. I wanted to own a farm - I fucking love cows and I really wanted to raise a few. I wanted to raise a kid and watch them become happy and successful. I know this all sounds cliche. But guess what, I'm dying in a month so I don't fucking care what people think anymore!

It feels amazing. I feel like I could quit my job, kick my feet up, and eat junk food for the next month with no consequence. But I can't do that yet. Some of my close friends are suicide counselors. They know the signs. They've already started asking questions. I'm sure they know what's up. I just don't think they know how urgent it is. Right now I'm just going through the motions, trying to stay positive for everyone. This month isn't mine anymore. It's for the people I love. I'll make sure they're happy with how we end things. Until then, good luck to y'all. I hope it never gets as bad for you as it did for me. It really does suck. Regardless of what my brain feels right now, I still have tiny nugget of rationality left that knows how shitty this is., return JSON {'kelas'}
{"kelas": "self-harm"}