me and september 18. 2014

yesterday i suddenly stopped one of my medications and i know how irresponsible it is to do such a thing but i couldn’t wait any longer and it was such a low dose that i know nothing is going to happen but i cannot tolerate the side effects any longer because i need something – just something small that can remind me what ‘normal’ people have that i cannot – and this bullshit medication has been quickly eating that up – and i need something that can help me.  and it really isn’t a big deal but i felt like i should mention it.

this afternoon i took a nap and realized i was growing cold and skin shaking and this is how the past comes knocking on my mind and i wish i knew how to keep it out of me – and there are some people that are stronger because they have read enough self-help books to deny that there is a problem and everything is sunny – but for me it is slimy and when the riddles come out of it’s mouth they are sad and make me say ‘oh my god’ and i can feel myself running for the shower and i am on the ground with the water slamming me in the face as i hug my knees and keep spitting so that i don’t drown in such a pitiful position –

like i almost did once in austin until they were pulling me out vomiting and near choking on a spoons.

i was saved once or twice until i lost count and they just became notches on the wall above my head in a cold emergency room.


and i can’t help it but now this auditorium smells like a pawn shop and cigarette smoke.

behind door number one is a fourteen year old boy writing shitty little poems in spiral notebooks at 4 a.m. and then being too drugged to make it through a day of school.

behind door number two he is on a couch and his portrait is being painted as a slouchy frowning fucker by a patient and exotic rapist.

behind door number three are photographs of his self-mutilation – arms and legs sliced and sour and even pictures of the razor blades he was hiding underneath his tongue.

behind door number four he swings by his neck from a tree branch and he is moaning.

any door that is chosen is bound to make somebody unhappy – but now they understand better and they no longer have to sit and listen to my problems.

thanks, fucking silly game show.

now you know my secrets.

i wish i could sing these fantastic stories as i am sure they would sound and smell better but instead they sit nasty in black and maybe smudged across the paper and my goddamn forehead.

later i will find fragments lodged in my wrists and these can be epitaphs to choose from when you need help remembering who i was.

~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2014/09/18.

4 Responses to “me and september 18. 2014”

  1. So sorry S that the ned hadn’t worked out. I know they can not be miracle cures with meds and mental health but improvements can help to take the edge off of things. And when it is not doing so, the struggling if even worse.

    As always, I wish you the best, only the best and less suffering.
    Thinking of you x

    • i agree. sometimes i just get so frustrated when not only are they not making me feel better, but also making my life harder in certain areas.
      hope you are doing well, my friend. hugs.

  2. Hey, I thought of you earlier today when I had a Robin Williams moment. I was sitting on top of a train bridge with my dog, Chance, and thought about doing a cart wheel off of it. (Sigh.) I’m not a suicidal person, but it’s my birthday- and the anniversary of when my two girls were taken away (20+ years ago). I was despondent, and it didn’t help that my guy & I had a scraper last night. So, I was feeling pretty iffy there for a moment, up on that train bridge. And then I thought of you, and I thought, “Damn. He’s hanging in there. You can too.”

    For what it’s worth…thanks. ;0) I know I sound like a broken record, but you never know just who’s going to read your stuff and be encouraged that you continue on as you do. It matters. x

    • i’m so sorry that you got to that spot. i hate those days when everything seems to happen all at once – or those anniversaries that make you remember too much. but it makes me feel really good that you were able to get through it and that i had anything to do with you doing so. that’s exactly why i write this blog –
      i hope you are feeling better. i know those days –
      take care, sweetie.

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