i was fifteen, fresh out of the psych ward, and i wanted to die. id read some articles of people dying from gasoline fumes. i figured it was probably pretty bad to drink too, so id done both of these a month earlier. id had a strange and interesting trip which id believed was death. i figured it might be but it wasnt so bad so whatever. i biked until i came to a gas station. i stopped on the way for some duct tape. i bought a jerry can and filled it up. i went about 500 meters away and buried myself in a hedge behind a dumpster. i thought it was good that my parents wouldnt be the ones to find me. i took off my shirt. i zipped up my jacket. i poured the gasoline over the shirt. i drank some. i took the shirt and wrapped it around my head then taped it in place. it covered my eyes i think. i lied down. i immediately was sucked into another world. it came in slow at first, this noise. the cars and traffic and i think a mosquito was buzzing. it all funneled into this repetitive dinging which somehow felt as if it were indefinitely increasing in pitch. there were visuals the first time. this time sight didnt exist. the dinging was the rhythm of the universe. everything was folding in on itself, churning, stretching. i was just a part of it. everything was just a part of it.

it was horrific. something was deeply, deeply wrong with everything. it was inescapable. this was what was real. this was the only thing that was real and the only thing that had ever been real and by killing myself id ripped myself away from the blip of blissful delusion that was a lifetime. i forgot all of my memories. i forgot i was a person. i forgot the ground and gravity and the trees. i forgot about people and society and grass and water. i forgot every single fundamental building block of the world. this was all there was. horror. every particle of matter endlessly running away, desperately trying to reach an escape that didn’t exist. suddenly there was light. i was confused. id still forgotten. but there was relief. i saw a mans face and heard voices and it came trickling back. i realized i was spitting and my throat was so sore. hed found me and removed the shirt from my face, i assume i was screaming but i dont know. he saved my life. i dont think he knew that. he called the cops. when they asked me my name i had to remember. it has been two and a half years. i am eighteen soon. the way i think shifted that day. it’s broken now. it is disorganized. ideas and thoughts feel like bulletin boards full of red string. i am not the same. i think i became functionally somewhat insane. i had a psychotic episode around this attempt in december. the trip never quite fully ended. i am still scared. dont huff gasoline.