me and september 02. 2014
he rolls over on the couch and the blanket falls to the floor and he is sweating – still shaking from the nightmares and the heaviness of lonely on his chest. sometimes it takes a couple of minutes – if you were staring at him he would look confused, as if he was lost. and maybe he is. maybe he has no idea where he is. but usually he does and he just cannot move and it is so fucking warm in the room.
if it were raining outside this feeling would be better. the rain is comfortable and could go on for days and it would make the feeling just a little bit better. but it is early september – still a hot humid summer outside and it only makes the feeling worse. there is nothing that can happen now that will make it feel better. the medications melted in his stomach hours ago and he knows there is no more sleep coming. there’s nothing left to do but be alone and see what happens – anything could happen on today.
an hour later.
suddenly a crowd like magic they appear and there is a sound like howling cats and stomach growling with sharp pains at the end. fuck his idea of manners when he is chewing on the inside of his cheeks and the depression is clouds inside of his ears – something must have been stolen and he has put himself into this position where the world can only poke and prod –
there is no clean way for it to happen and no way that those sad childhood prayers made any fucking difference. there is a smell that he can’t identify. there are faces in that crowd that are losing their eyes and
somebody put him in a box and quickly carry this suicide away
there are precious minutes being devoured by an invisible illness – he’s been fired and his bones left to the pickers to turn red blushing embarrassed in present day hell fucked by frowns and old ratty journals that are messy on the bookshelves.
he could be twelve or pushing seventy years old and it’s impossible to tell even now because he has stopped eating and avoided all light while begging for tiny sips of water to keep him alive – just enough to recite his life story to a few enthusiastic readers – those who will wait until he is gone before digging the words out of their ears and throwing them out the windows
light scattered applause and a ‘woo-hoo.’
this guy has issues and is growing tired of complaining, but nothing else to do in between the guilt trips and the medication near-death naps.
~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2014/09/02.
Posted in september14
Tags: bipolar disorder, crying, depression, dreams, eating disorders, guilt, happiness, hating self, isolation, mental illness, nightmares, posts about suicide, sleep
alltheavenueslookugly 
Oh I love your writing but how I wish it wasn’t true and you suffering 😦
i wish the same for you. we are lucky to have this at least – a way to let everyone know. hugs to you, my friend.
We are lucky to have this and all to have each other.
I hope your writing does give you some sense of release or just liking being artistic. As sad as those words are, there are some sentences I think you deserve to be quoted on in essays all over the world!!
it does give me a little bit of a release and some days i am just able to be artistic and have to take advantage of it – which is why i cannot be bothered to pay attention to trivial writing ‘rules.’
it doesn’t matter how we say it, it just matters that it is said. i love reading your writing also because in it i can feel everything –
we just need to keep going. 🙂
You are totally right. Agreed!
And I tell ya… You not conforming to writing ‘rules’ really makes it even more interesting to read so keep it up!!
Once again I have to say you are a true artist…publishing could mean millions that you don’t know what to do with 🙂 Been away Sean, have a brain aneurysm ready to pop, stats are not good if it does. Dying is ok, but living the rest of my life drooling in a home is not. Anyways, will catch up on my fav reading, you being my bestest fav 🙂
i’ve noticed you’ve been gone, and missed you! i understand what you mean, but i hate the idea of you just disappearing and me not knowing what has happened. is there any way you or somebody could email me, nothing too much, but just a little something to let me know how you are doing? if not, i understand, but i do miss you when you are gone.
Thank you for saying that, it means so much to me. As long as I have my wits about me, such as they are, I will let you know if anything happens and if I kick it I will ask my husband to email you my sweet friend. I care a lot about you, feel like I know you so well. xo