For the second time in my life have taken the coward's way out and disappeared from life/work on Friday with the intention of killing myself.
So far unsuccessful.
Don't go for the asphixiation by plastic bag over head - it's restrictive when you are claustrophobic.
Am holed up in a B and B in a coastal town. It's rare to stay in a homage to the Somme.
The en-suite TV doesn't even pick up C4, which has been ironic for me.
Still, am relaxing with wine, pills and the jazz music that still can be heard on BBC 2's overnight Ceefax pages.
Met two lovely police officers this morning, concerned for my welfare.
Washed my hair in the sink as tribute.
Am shit at having depressive crises, sorry.
Best,
Tim x x x x x x