Although today was a rainy day, I had a good time with my gay best friend. Our relationship is unexplanable. We are more like bros. Anyway. We had lunch at an Asian restaurant and ate Japanese food (yum yum).
I showed him my favourite goth shop and what surprises me is that when the red-haired punk goth tattooed seller asked me why I had a crutch I spontaneously avowed I did a suicide attempt. I mean, I’ve known her for like 5 years, but I don’t come often to her shop (the clothes are expensive) and we only shared small talks. Maybe the fact that she’s goth-punk makes me believe she’s open-minded. I am sure she is.
Sorry, no picture of my face but I can assure you I smile on this photograph.
I bought this beautiful light grey frame to frame one of the pastel oil drawings I made while I was hospitalized. I’m a bit disappointed that the paper is a bit creased, which shows a lot on the picture.
Sometimes I have a hard time believing the past four months nightmare is over. Yet I HAVE to if I want to have a normal, even pleasant life again. I have to shush the little voice that says: You were born to suffer. I WAS NOT. I have the right to be happy now.
This morning my moods were a bit low because I was home alone and the dog barking outside would not want to get in the house again. But now my father is home and the dog is sleeping near the fire and I’m feeling more peaceful. I run a bit the exercise bike and lifted dumbells.
I lost a few extra-pounds without starving myself or overexercising. I need to put into my mind that everything’s OK now.
While I was still in a wheelchair after my latest suicide attempt, my parents offered me an adorable female dog that I called Jasmine. She’s hyper mad but also very affectionate. She makes me feel less lonely when nobody’s home. I love it when she licks my face and I kiss her head or back. She’s my furbaby! ❤