Note this a little bit gross but bear with me. For a long time I've suffered from ingrown toenails... on both large toes. (I told you it was gross, but again bear with me). The one on my left foot has always been particularly bothersome. For years now, every time it hurts I've had these thoughts about taking a knife to it, in some perverted attempt to fix the problem. A couple of weeks ago, on all hallows eve, my toe was bothering me particularly badly. It was swollen and sore. For what ever reason, I was in an odd state of mind that night and did something I have never done before.... I acted on my fantasies and took a steak knife too it... or rather, I attempted to act on my fantasies. Unfortunately... or maybe fortunately... the steak knife was much to doll to even break the skin, never the less do what I thought needed to actually be done. However I did manage to cut into it near the nail, where the skin was kind of dry and I guess some of the cells were dead.
Gore Warning Ahead
Let me tell you turned out not to be the brightest idea in the world, aside from the obvious reasons. The knife must not have been clean, becusae the area where I cut, in addition to the entire left side of the nail bed, soon became very infected. It's still infected today, despite the heavy use of antibiotical cream. It's painful, and it's gotten bloody, and I'm afraid that the very piece of skin I attempted to cut of may be rotting off. There is some preverse irony in that.
Now what was the port of this rather disturbing story? Well as I said I had been having these fantasies for a while and this was the first time I had acted on them. And that's what makes me so very afraid. I knew it was irrational, and that had always stopped me before, despite how persitant and compelling the fantasies were... and their promisses of relief. Not only did I act on them, but I acted on them for no reaosn, at least none that I know of. This seems completely irrational to me, and thus leaves me terrified of myself.
And that isn't even the worst part. The fantasies haven't come back... but they've been replaced by new fantasies. Fantasies of suicide pervade my thoughts. I find myself thinking of how easy it would be to go over and take the pills I have, wondering if I have enough to die. These thoughts scare me, since I'm fairly happy right now... happier than I've been in times past, and I had never considered suicide before. And after what happened with the last fantasies, I'm afraid that one day I'll get up and take those pills, or drink that fluid, and die, for no reason at all. I really don't want to die. I have friends I care too much about, I'm doing well in school, I'm managing better than I ever had, yet I am left trully and honestly terrified.
All I can say is one thing. Help
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