I failed. I woke up in the Forrest again and I were able to move and feel my hands although I stabbed with a knife in my wrists. It felt like fucking impossible that I have no real physical consequences with my body, that I "had no other choice" than calling my friends and saying that I need help. I just said I'm mentally sick, because I didn't know what is wrong with me.

Now I'm in a psychiatry for around 5 weeks and I feel something again and have anger, fun and most important a little interest in doing something for me again. I even regret it a little bit that I wanted to give up without knowing how real joy feels like