I don't even know anymore

I'm scared.

I woke up at at about 1:00 this morning. Okay, maybe I didn't actually go to sleep in the first place, but that's beside the point. And so I got out of bed, and I went to the bathroom. While there, I got a nosebleed. They're not uncommon, due to the dryness where I live. But instead of getting toilet paper to dry it up, I let it drip into my sink. This went on for a few minutes, soaking my sink in the blood. Then I licked my upper lip to clean off the blood and wiped the rest under my nose away. But here's what scares me: I played with the blood in my sink. I put my fingers into the now cold blood and swirled it around. I licked my fingers clean of the blood, and then I snapped out of whatever trance I was in and began to clean everything up- with water, this time. I felt disgusted with myself.

And then at about 3 P.M. today, I went into the pool in a very short bathing suit skirt and a black tee shirt, which I had tied in the back to make it a crop top. So I got into our shallow pool- the deepest it goes is 5 feet. And I floated around for a while, swam laps, urged my dog to jump in. But then I stopped. I contemplated floating facedown. The water looked so pretty and mesmerizing. I could've just had a tea party on the bottom of the pool and left abruptly. I wondered if I should take my life right there and nobody would notice.

I'm very scared of myself. I've know of my depression before, but am I that sadistic? To play in my own blood? Do I just want to disappear? Is my life that unimportant?

Yes.

I now am staring at the gun. I could load it. I could shoot it. I could feel my life slip away.

But I'll put it back.

So instead I take a knife. The blade glides over my skin, creating slices that don't hurt and aren't very deep. When the blood starts beading, I plunge it into my gut, allowing the blood to spurt out violently. I leave the knife there, feeling the "pain." Why are people afraid of this? It feels so good.

Why was I scared??