my suicide attempt was like something out of Laurel and Hardy. I panicked once I had ingested pills and called my x boyfriend who came rushing over to my house and called an ambulance. By the time he got to the house I'd fallen down the stairs because the landlord had not fixed the lighting in the stairwell. He also realised I had no shoes on and not many clothes so ran up to the flat to go and get some for me whilst we waited for the Ambulance. He realised that I had locked us out of the flat so came back down and ended up tripping on the dark staircase himself. Ambulance still didn't arrive - bascially it had gone to the wrong address - going to street - instead of road. It arrived about 15 minutes late but finally I was safely in hospital. Once I'd been stabalized I was put in a ward full of old people who kept on farting and pissing the beds. They also snored like trapped warthogs with respiratory problems. I decided to go and make a bed in the shower room and made my way in there with a pillow and blanket. After 10 minutes I realised it smelled more of piss than the ward so went to go back to bed. I was still quite out of it and fell onto a trolley which made a massive clattering noise at 4am. 2 days later I was transferred to what is called the Mermaid Ward and full of proper nutters who laughed at adverts about bread and spoke like they were from another planet. I was locked in a room which had no heating and a running tap. I came out madder than King George. When back at home I realised the worst thing of all was the massive huge bruise on my fat arse from falling on the frigging trolley - one cheek with a black thing on it which in the middle was bright yellow like a pineapple. I took a photo of it and have used it as a flyer for my band. This just goes to prove that my life is a living farce - but hey I wouldn't have it any other way...
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