me and august 03

i daydreamed that i ate all of the pills in the bottles and i remember the feeling of them getting lodged in my throat and wanting to cough but knowing better and my head begins to grow heavy and i feel that starting from the back of my throat and moving upwards through my nasal cavity until my nose is bleeding and and my eyes are sagging and everything begins to slow down and i make noises that are half-moans and half-screams –

the wall is wearing a disguise that looks like a doctor standing in front of me but that is completely impossible.

there are times when death scares me. i’m scared to feel it happen. to know that i am dying and scared that i will feel it and as it goes i will remember everything wrong that i have done and everybody that i have hurt and i’ll be up on stage apologizing to an entire crowd of people who shouldn’t give a shit about me anymore.

there are times that the thought of living another ten years, another five years, another week like this is even more frightening. people can’t possibly be expected to live with this shit. it’s one minute to the next and those minutes are swollen with an unbearable paranoia guilt impossible sadness. some days are harder, and some days are harder than that. one of these days, i am going to lose. this is a fight that i cannot win. it’s more of a question of just how long i can stay on my feet while something eight times my size pounds in my fucking head. i wonder when i went from being strong to stupid.

this is torture. just understand that. you don’t have to understand horrible crippling depression.you don’t have to understand what it feels like to make the choice (more than a few times) to actually attempt to end your own life. you don’t have to understand why it physically hurts me sometimes to speak, to smile, to accept a compliment, to try and be funny or sit quiet in a corner.

just understand that inside my head, it’s torture.

i understand why people like me drink use drugs sleep for twenty hours a day and wander dumb around an empty black house at night while everybody sleeps and it is just you and your thoughts and perhaps some Billie Holiday and i could use a cigarette and sleep and to stop staring at the clock like it is fucking taunting me and i suppose some of it could be a severe lack of sleep and insanity just waiting for it’s chance – but i shouldn’t be in this position in the first place.

i should sleep like a normal person.

i should feel good when i feel good.

i should not want to smash mirrors when i look into them and see this sad, fat, pathetic man staring back at me.

i should believe that this doom won’t last forever.

i should write more.

i should tell the people i care about how much i care about them instead of being too scared that they are going to tell me the same thing and because i know they are worried about me.

i should believe my life is precious and important.

but i cannot do any of that.

 

the taste on my lips is prescription pill metallic.

october is getting closer.

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~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2012/08/03.

8 Responses to “me and august 03”

  1. Your talent is immense Sean.

    It’s best to refrain from using ‘should’ statements. I read about that once. It puts unnessesaarily pressure on you and who says you ‘should’ do that anyway!

    Set yourself little goals. I am doing ones like taking a shower or getting up for breakfast. Brushing your teeth. Email your heart out to organisations that help people with mental health issues. Go for a 15 minute walk around the block. Little things.

    I am wishing you well my friend. Xx

    • you are right, and while i refuse to put more pressure on myself, i look at it more as things i should do because i want to do them. but i understand what you are saying. you’ve been a great friend to me through this, and i hope i’ve been able to help you out, even a little.

      thank you.

      • You have helped me my friend. Please recognise this. You are worth so much more than you think you are. šŸ˜‰

  2. I care about you. I just want you to know that. The clock is insanity… that is why I have a thing for collecting them. We can’t stop time… eventually we all make it to the same goal: death.
    What I hope that will happen for you is that some of the things that you “should” be able to feel/do will come to you. I hope that somewhere, in all that darkness, is a tiny spark… with that, it can grow… and if that spark can catch on… and light enters your world, you will feel something unlike anything else… peace.
    Death isn’t what we seek when we hurt… we just want the pain to end. If we didn’t have that crippling pain… we would wish for more life. ā™„
    I heart you my friend.

    • i know you do. it’s amazing the relationships people can build when they share with each other a horrible illness. we are not alone because we have each other, people who at least have a good understanding of the hell that each day is.

      i love you, c. no matter how far into the dark i am, i will always think about and worry about you and all of us who suffer so greatly.

  3. I remember now. It took me a long time, but I do. I remember my darkest seconds, minutes, days and what it took to get through them. At the time I thought I was weak and disgusting and useless. There was this black mass that was threatening to overcome me with insanity. I lived in hell at the bottom of a cavern so dark that my nakedness and terror was only known by me. I fought against it all, resisted, and then, worn out from fighting, I laid down, gave up, and in apathy, surrendered to what is. I am who I am. Fuck who I was in the past, who I am supposed to be. FOR NOW, this is me.

    I found courage in that. I found love in that. I slowly climbed out.

    You are strong to be in hell and to write about it. The stamina it takes is remarkable. I know that now.

    I am not “cured” or “fixed”. I have gotten better, worse and better. That’s okay.

    I love me.

    And though I don’t know you, it doesn’t matter. I love you.

    From the heart,
    Trish

    • thank you so much. really.

      having lived with this for most of my life i know those different days – the ones full of self-pity, of wondering why you couldn’t have turned out to be the person you would like to be, of wondering why you couldn’t be normal and have the friends. all of it.

      by giving myself little goals to accomplish, i hope to be like you some day. a person who suffers but knows their suffering by name and has the strength to fight it like you do. i know everyday is not a picnic for you by any means, but you have that strength to not let it dictate your life anymore.

      i yearn for that strength. until then, i will hang in there, the best that i know how, and hope that i am not taken away before i have the chance to accomplish those things that i wish to accomplish.

      take care, and thank you. thank you so much for the response and for the acceptance. šŸ™‚

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