2021: I was strapped down onto a bed, yelling and screaming down the halls of Alfred Hospital Emergency after an attempt to end my life. The first real attempt, after years of threats, dabbling, and idealising. The chaotic dance borderlines do with a knife, a pack of pills, and a bottle of spirit obliviators—“the girl who cried suicide.”
Fast-forward to 2025: my best friend packing his things out of the spare room.
My mind racing.
Memories unarchiving and morphing into reality.
My heart trembling.
My blood pulsing.
My insides chaotic—while the world around me is in slow motion, blurry, lagged, and warped.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Ashira’s Substack to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.