Introduction

London, February 7th 2009. 3:17am.

I suppose I could tie the shower cord around my neck, or slit my wrists with a carving knife? No, both of those options involve a considerable amount of pain and I'm in enough of that as it is. Plus there's the 'oh shit' factor – I don't want to be thinking about my life as I watch it drain away from me.

Why don't I jump under a tube train? That would be quick and easy to do – yet that would seriously piss commuters off, I know first-hand from living in this fucking city what it's like to have your plans ruined by a jumper. I could go back to Norwich, take a walk into the countryside, put my head on the train tracks and catch the last train from this godforsaken city – that would cause the least amount of disruption and it would be quick too. What do you think?

Silence.

'Help me out here you fucking thing,' I shouted. 'Oh, you're just loving this shit aren't you'.

Fuck it. Who am I kidding. I'm a fucking failure, I can't even bring myself to commit suicide properly. I'll just carry on as I am then, the slow death I'm suffering as this demon eats away at my body. I read on the internet that most anorexics die from a heart attack – I hope I have one soon, I can't take this shit anymore. You'll be happy then, won't you.....