I stood on a high ledge again today. The last time I did that was months ago. Then I sat down and took pictures, but one thought kept popping into my head. I feel so disgusted with myself. I thought I was over a lot of this. I love life, that's what I say. I love jumping. I jump in the water all the time. But jumping there felt different. I'm not even brave enough to do it that terrifying way, but I can't stop standing on heights—the fifth floor, the roof, the mountains—looking down and thinking I should just close my eyes. I don't want to. I feel sick. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I don't want this, not in such a horrible way, at least. It's just that the idea has been so deeply ingrained in my mind since maybe eight, that I can't imagine myself dying any other way.