I am truth.
To be trapped in ambivalence, words seem like sounds, sounds are chaotic, then the question arises: just where is the meaning? (I am truth)
If there's none within, none personal to give, then the question becomes "Just why do we live?" (Is it a choice?)
Sometimes there's a wall there. (Is this an illusion?)
Sometimes there are two verses being sung, yet you don't want to be limited by your perception of the judgement of others. (Are there others?)
No, on the contrary, you are quite alone, left only with yourself... (Can I be heard?)
You project your voice, and only hope for even so much as an echo, something depraved, even corrupt, because in the void there is only you. (Will this make me real?)
Eventually you even start to believe the lies, left alone inside of your cage; the system... (Is there any actual escape from truth?)
Falling into delusion... or is it awakening..? You start to question the validity of your own voice, when the echoes begin to accumulate, rebounding endlessly, and every time you try to speak, disproportionately do those ringing sounds drown you out, til you aren't the truth. (What is truth?)
You're still the slave to loneliness, but now those sounds you hear seem to become more like voices, and they begin to overpower your own. (I have a voice..?)
What is there to do, then, when you don't even know what you're truly a slave to? You become a songbird. (Maybe I always loved to sing; maybe I was never trapped...)
Further into delusion do you fall, because delusion is your only hope. All echoes take a life of their own, but now you have another to play with. Something not of yourself. (I love...)
You cling desperately now to those voices, now songs, but they always seem to go beyond you, beyond your understand, beyond your threshold; those which, even through your relentless pursuit of transliminality, they fade against your will. (If only I could reach a little further, hold a little tighter, maybe they wouldn't leave; maybe I wouldn't have this... feeling.)
In the act of creation, you splinter truth. In denying the whole, fragments you attempt to grab will turn to dust. Still, you try. (I am losing...)
Yearning so deeply, you will be abandoned; eyes fixed on illusion without, ungrounded, with no care for what is within. (It won't stop.....)
Your voice is weak, the echoes are gone, too tired to sing, the symphony you illustrated comes to a grand finale. Silence is the harmonizing feature of a beautiful song. (I am lost.)
Memories resound like echoes, playing over and over until they, too, are senseless. The purpose of a beginning is to have an ending. Something was real, but it wasn't you. (Now I understand...)
The sense resolves into chaos as truth begins to to emerge once more, taking you under, into its calling. (...)
... (I am truth.)
Monday, June 25, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
I tend to forget things...
...pretty easily. It's been a problem since I was little because it was a survival mechanism I had to access frequently. Pretty quickly I forgot the pain of yesterday, but it's true what they say.. The initial wound may heal,but scars never fade. Sometimes those scars hurt, and it seems that,like when you are hurt deeply,there is a reccurent ghosted throbbing,even if only in memory. This is probably it.. I may or may not be bipolar, but there is pain below the surface that byfar surpasses anything I could feel in one given moment. Pain that has accumulated over the passing of years and that I fear I will never be rid of. It comes to surface randomly.. and I,many times, can't say from where. I have forgotten, and this I will not forget. It's a shame,though, that when it breaks across that fine line it can ruin my moment,the present, the future..
Is this all a product of my psyche? And if it is, damn me. Why would I put myself through such unnecessary torment? It's not a concious choice, anyways. If I could end this, I would. I've tried and failed, and been reassured that this is something beyond me.. something that I can't completely alleviate on my own,or at least not through the courses of action in which I had engaged in. I don't like to be weak and dependent. I don't like to not have the answers,dwelling my own ignorance without direction..
Others say the first step is always acknowledgement, well OK. I did that.. I did that a long time ago. I can try to stay positive, and yes, I do my best. I've even tried to disregard it,sweep it under the carpet so to speak, but when the dust-bunnies clump together,pretty soon you have a monster and you can only wonder how you got in so far over your head. It's a scary feeling :\ I'm just glad,above all else,that I'm not there anymore.
My whole life, I have been warned, this will be a very significant part of my truth. Pat told me that my challenge will not to be overtaken by my depression.. that is the single biggest challenge I will have in my life.
So why don't people consider mood-disorders a war of their own esteem? If you're a survivor of a physical war, it usually surmounts to dumb luck, but if you are a veteran of this type of internal war.. it is a result of courage and preserverance. That, I think, is worthy of being honored.
Is this all a product of my psyche? And if it is, damn me. Why would I put myself through such unnecessary torment? It's not a concious choice, anyways. If I could end this, I would. I've tried and failed, and been reassured that this is something beyond me.. something that I can't completely alleviate on my own,or at least not through the courses of action in which I had engaged in. I don't like to be weak and dependent. I don't like to not have the answers,dwelling my own ignorance without direction..
Others say the first step is always acknowledgement, well OK. I did that.. I did that a long time ago. I can try to stay positive, and yes, I do my best. I've even tried to disregard it,sweep it under the carpet so to speak, but when the dust-bunnies clump together,pretty soon you have a monster and you can only wonder how you got in so far over your head. It's a scary feeling :\ I'm just glad,above all else,that I'm not there anymore.
My whole life, I have been warned, this will be a very significant part of my truth. Pat told me that my challenge will not to be overtaken by my depression.. that is the single biggest challenge I will have in my life.
According to official statistics, about a million people die by suicide annually, more than those murdered or killed in war.[35] According to 2005 data, suicides in the U.S. outnumber homicides by nearly 2 to 1 and ranks as the 11th leading cause of death in the country, ahead of liver disease and Parkinson's disease.
So why don't people consider mood-disorders a war of their own esteem? If you're a survivor of a physical war, it usually surmounts to dumb luck, but if you are a veteran of this type of internal war.. it is a result of courage and preserverance. That, I think, is worthy of being honored.
Graduation
People keep talking about how we're seniors and we're going to be graduating and how "Oh, it's so great".. all this crap.. but you know what? I don't even know if I'm going to make it to then. My mom ordered my cap and gown and
[evidently I fell into a coma not long after]
[evidently I fell into a coma not long after]
without regrets
There were some important things I had to learn this year.. like learning to let go. It has always been hard for me to know that I may actually care for people more than they particularly care about me,at least it was until I considered it in a different light. When somebody addresses their own need, the fuel mine. That's what allows this universe to function as it does..
"Everybody always says to live life with no regrets, but when you do,they get mad.."
It's like you can focus on hearing spoken words, or you can focus on the meaning behind them. You can focus on an individuals action, or you can focus on what they may have intended. You can present yourself like an encyclopedia, used only when those in need seek, or you can present yourself like an ambiguous excerpt, implying you have more meaning than you actually do.
"Everybody always says to live life with no regrets, but when you do,they get mad.."
It's like you can focus on hearing spoken words, or you can focus on the meaning behind them. You can focus on an individuals action, or you can focus on what they may have intended. You can present yourself like an encyclopedia, used only when those in need seek, or you can present yourself like an ambiguous excerpt, implying you have more meaning than you actually do.
.....
Use me, discard me like trash, tell me I am useless since you took all the good in me, tell me that I was nothing more than an object, the value to be drained at your disposal. Tell me.. tell me that you lied to me this whole time, that you were just like all of the other people who put such complete faith in.. tell me that this is all I meant to be to any person who could every come to mean anything to me for the rest of eternity. Tell me that I'm doomed... that this is fate.. Tell me how this is all my fault, had always been my fault, to blame myself, that I should be ashamed of myself.. Please, tell me I'm wrong, oh, so wrong..
Understanding our natural preferences had, at one point, been as natural as breathing, yet so much conditioning got in the way, and so much "knowledge" was acquired that would corrupt our intuitive judgment.. our understandings of our understandings became corrupt.
Desperately I try to retain whatever insight I have in my blessed moments of wisdom, try to remember "the truth".. and I guess the truth must be that we cannot always know the truth. We may not always understand the truth, but the truth will still exist. We may not touch,smell,taste,breathe,see the truth.. but it may be understood...
But what am I trying to do with my words and ways? Am I putting faith in her words or actions, because both have failed.. or am I putting my faith elsewhere.. Am I investing in my intuitive judgment of her nature? My beliefs are something I can maintain,regardless of changing circumstance, so in a way, if I were to put my full faith in her, judging initially that she is one pure of heart, and then considering that judgment a constant.. then no matter what mistakes she made, if she was truly pure of heart, the original pattern of behavior should persist despite the random errs of human nature.
Well, I need to remember it's okay to forgive myself for what I misjudged. It's natural for people to make mistakes.. and I can only justify forgiving myself, justify loving myself, if I choose to forgive and love others,as well.
Desperately I try to retain whatever insight I have in my blessed moments of wisdom, try to remember "the truth".. and I guess the truth must be that we cannot always know the truth. We may not always understand the truth, but the truth will still exist. We may not touch,smell,taste,breathe,see the truth.. but it may be understood...
But what am I trying to do with my words and ways? Am I putting faith in her words or actions, because both have failed.. or am I putting my faith elsewhere.. Am I investing in my intuitive judgment of her nature? My beliefs are something I can maintain,regardless of changing circumstance, so in a way, if I were to put my full faith in her, judging initially that she is one pure of heart, and then considering that judgment a constant.. then no matter what mistakes she made, if she was truly pure of heart, the original pattern of behavior should persist despite the random errs of human nature.
Well, I need to remember it's okay to forgive myself for what I misjudged. It's natural for people to make mistakes.. and I can only justify forgiving myself, justify loving myself, if I choose to forgive and love others,as well.
Nobody really realizes...
How at risk I truly am. I'm trying; I'm trying desperately to figure out what it is I need, but I haven't found it, and I'm running out of time... I have limits. I can only withstand so much... I am about to meet my humanly threshold, and when that happens, nothing can stop what will happen in consequence. Nobody can. I'm just waiting to die, anyways... I guess it doesn't really matter, after all. I'll stop soon. They say insanity is going something over and over, while expecting a different result. I've been insane, trying over and over to find something that probably doesn't even exist. Something that won't exist in time.
"Something I wasn't sure of,
but I was in the middle of
Something I forget now,
but I've seen to little of..."
here we go again
"Something I wasn't sure of,
but I was in the middle of
Something I forget now,
but I've seen to little of..."
here we go again
I guess it must not really be new...
I keep thinking I just suddenly became this way... forgetting over and over... Forgetting I forget. I make the same mistakes, and I know it's necessary, but will it be the death of me?
5/2010
"...but my intention never was to hurt her. I've never intentionally acted specifically for the sake of hurting people sadistically in my life. Especially not those I love... I don't trust myself, however. I'm so self-absorbed all the time, how could I possibly show real love? I'm just an inconsiderate moron, so wound up in their own affairs that they don't even notice themself becoming the very things they so strongly strive to oppose. What would she prefer? Me being honest, or me being a good friend? How could she appreciate and love something so disgraceful when everybody else (including its resident) would disown it? I know she is pure, kind and strong, yet... what would it mean to hope for love in return or to ask for it? I think it's wrong... selfish, despite its honesty... or maybe I've been wrong all along. I need to sleep. I need help from my dreams."
Why do I end up back there so frequently? I can see how deeply woven into my internal concept this motif is... very much at the core.
5/2010
"I know I must forgive her, them, us... So I'll pray. It will be a prayer of utmost sincerity... They couldn't have known what it meant... It's not their fault... It's a fault of the process; the negative that must exist for there to be love... for there to be love... I will be proactive... One day they will learn, and though it does not bring me comfort to think that they will suffer, too... I know they must learn their own lessons, just like I must... Yeah, that irony smarts a bit, but I just need to laugh it off."
This was over 2 years ago... both of these entries...
5/2010
"There's really nothing anybody could do about my feelings (or lack thereof), but Pat said I should not isolate myself because it gives no positive memories to draw strength or hope from, but...
I don't personally feel love, don't truly know any reason to fight for it, and it's like never even existed. Nobody could make me remember then, and all I know is pain. All I knew was the pain of ours that they wouldn't even know..."
...and yet another,
"Meh, Sara says they do care.
Sara contradicts herself with her own words.
Sara doesn't see the irony of being objective.
Sara couldn't know in this way, I shouldn't blame her.
So who is at fault, if anybody?
Aren't I the judgmental one?
In what strange universe am I superior?
In what deranged mindset am I different?
I fear this is all I could ever know to think,
I'm scared there's no purpose in learning."
I wrote so many poems...
"Nothing
there is nothing
that could help it
there is nothing I lack
nothing I need
nothing I want
but I'm still here
I don't even want to think about it
I want to not think
I don't want to do anything
which means I want to do nothing
and when I say I don't want it, it really means
I want to not want"
5/2010
"...but my intention never was to hurt her. I've never intentionally acted specifically for the sake of hurting people sadistically in my life. Especially not those I love... I don't trust myself, however. I'm so self-absorbed all the time, how could I possibly show real love? I'm just an inconsiderate moron, so wound up in their own affairs that they don't even notice themself becoming the very things they so strongly strive to oppose. What would she prefer? Me being honest, or me being a good friend? How could she appreciate and love something so disgraceful when everybody else (including its resident) would disown it? I know she is pure, kind and strong, yet... what would it mean to hope for love in return or to ask for it? I think it's wrong... selfish, despite its honesty... or maybe I've been wrong all along. I need to sleep. I need help from my dreams."
Why do I end up back there so frequently? I can see how deeply woven into my internal concept this motif is... very much at the core.
5/2010
"I know I must forgive her, them, us... So I'll pray. It will be a prayer of utmost sincerity... They couldn't have known what it meant... It's not their fault... It's a fault of the process; the negative that must exist for there to be love... for there to be love... I will be proactive... One day they will learn, and though it does not bring me comfort to think that they will suffer, too... I know they must learn their own lessons, just like I must... Yeah, that irony smarts a bit, but I just need to laugh it off."
This was over 2 years ago... both of these entries...
5/2010
"There's really nothing anybody could do about my feelings (or lack thereof), but Pat said I should not isolate myself because it gives no positive memories to draw strength or hope from, but...
I don't personally feel love, don't truly know any reason to fight for it, and it's like never even existed. Nobody could make me remember then, and all I know is pain. All I knew was the pain of ours that they wouldn't even know..."
...and yet another,
"Meh, Sara says they do care.
Sara contradicts herself with her own words.
Sara doesn't see the irony of being objective.
Sara couldn't know in this way, I shouldn't blame her.
So who is at fault, if anybody?
Aren't I the judgmental one?
In what strange universe am I superior?
In what deranged mindset am I different?
I fear this is all I could ever know to think,
I'm scared there's no purpose in learning."
I wrote so many poems...
"Nothing
there is nothing
that could help it
there is nothing I lack
nothing I need
nothing I want
but I'm still here
I don't even want to think about it
I want to not think
I don't want to do anything
which means I want to do nothing
and when I say I don't want it, it really means
I want to not want"
Thursday, June 14, 2012
I'm so fucking done.
I'm tired of this bullshit. Life is bullshit. Yeah, this is the ego speaking, but guess what? It was never my real self to begin with. I'm tired of suffering every fucking day without reason. I'm tired of pretty much fucking everybody and everything. Except my cat. Sad that an animal is the closest I ever came to feeling cared about or dare I say loved. Better to die sober. Just to prove how fucking spent I am. I don't care about peoples' expectations. Yeah, I let them down, I let you all down, I don't care anymore, I can't care anymore. I have no reason to live; I'm done pretending I do. There was no meaning; I knew that. Make one up... I'm done. There is no point. NO POINT. I've been in pain for years, over 50 psychiatric medications, tried to kill myself so many times before. I will not fail this time. It isn't an option. Especially not the way I plan it. I will be dead. I don't care. I don't care what people will think about this. I don't care if it hurts. I DON'T FUCKING CARE. I should feel this, and I should feel that; bullshit. I'm not killing myself for the sake OF hurting people, I'm not killing myself to run away. I'm killing myself because I have no reason not to. I haven't had one for a very long time. No more running away... I'm gonna die anyways in the future, so what does it matter? What does my stupid life even mean to anybody? I'm socially isolated and I don't care. I don't fucking care. Everybody leaves. Now it's my turn. That something I needed... it was always just out of reach. Always; torture. I'm done with people pretending to care. I'm pretending not to. Now to make some final... I don't even fucking know. Wrapping this whole bullshit existence up and tossing it away with my life.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
I said I'm making progress...
...but is it really the truth?
I'm so depressed right now. I know my depression hasn't been as bad as it could be, otherwise I'd be considering suicide more seriously right now, so I guess that's good. Looking back tonight, however, at my past and questioning if coming out of the coma, into a world of difference, was the ethical thing to do for everybody else and myself. All perceived good AND bad was the product of that, and I'd been able to say that was justified to think it simply balanced out as an equation, but then it occurred to me today... that's not the best analogy. For some people, life truly isn't fair (in their perspective)... Would it be more just to return? Was it wrong of me, despite the good intentions? The Pistis Sophia.. This place of suffering and prosperity that I ended up; the product of my own decision to deviate... is it my fault? I know in the end, it all adds up to 1... truth... It began as one, and it doesn't matter how it fractures, it's still one in total, but did I taint it?
How many are suffering and have suffered, because of me? Will those who have suffered... no, they'll still deviate, despite time... because they're me. My life isn't really necessary in the bigger picture, whether I live or die; I do this only for myself, consider all as an extension, knowing no true damage can be done, yet I gave birth to this illusion through... love. Is love ever a mistake, or is it an illusion? I... know, good or bad, or neither, it's my fault, but then what is the purpose of illusion? Was I deceived? In the end, she return, Sophia did, through admitting her fault... Was this a wrong, to make the other side right? But it's neither... isn't it? How much is dogma, how much is illusion, and why... can't I see beauty? Without it, my intuition is blinded, and I wander aimlessly, purposelessly... I could signify the turning point; the return... but... is that what's best?
I hate how I have this much power because of what I discovered. I hate it.
It's not about me, I know that, but I don't want this responsibility; I don't know how much longer I can handle it.
Maybe I should meditate, yet the storm in my subconscious continues to grow... will I be engulfed in consequence? I'm so frustrated, I want to cry... I feel like I'm forcing myself to live, despite suffering, for no reason...
I told my friend I wasn't suicidal... I lied... Without beauty, despite this knowledge... I need help. Some sort of help. I'm back to where I was... knowing I need something, but not knowing what it is...
"Something I wasn't sure of, but I was in the middle of,
Something I forget now, but I've seen too little of..."
I'm way worse off right now then I want to accept. I know how close I am to the edge, and how little it takes to cause a domino effect... not much at this point.
I'm so depressed right now. I know my depression hasn't been as bad as it could be, otherwise I'd be considering suicide more seriously right now, so I guess that's good. Looking back tonight, however, at my past and questioning if coming out of the coma, into a world of difference, was the ethical thing to do for everybody else and myself. All perceived good AND bad was the product of that, and I'd been able to say that was justified to think it simply balanced out as an equation, but then it occurred to me today... that's not the best analogy. For some people, life truly isn't fair (in their perspective)... Would it be more just to return? Was it wrong of me, despite the good intentions? The Pistis Sophia.. This place of suffering and prosperity that I ended up; the product of my own decision to deviate... is it my fault? I know in the end, it all adds up to 1... truth... It began as one, and it doesn't matter how it fractures, it's still one in total, but did I taint it?
How many are suffering and have suffered, because of me? Will those who have suffered... no, they'll still deviate, despite time... because they're me. My life isn't really necessary in the bigger picture, whether I live or die; I do this only for myself, consider all as an extension, knowing no true damage can be done, yet I gave birth to this illusion through... love. Is love ever a mistake, or is it an illusion? I... know, good or bad, or neither, it's my fault, but then what is the purpose of illusion? Was I deceived? In the end, she return, Sophia did, through admitting her fault... Was this a wrong, to make the other side right? But it's neither... isn't it? How much is dogma, how much is illusion, and why... can't I see beauty? Without it, my intuition is blinded, and I wander aimlessly, purposelessly... I could signify the turning point; the return... but... is that what's best?
I hate how I have this much power because of what I discovered. I hate it.
It's not about me, I know that, but I don't want this responsibility; I don't know how much longer I can handle it.
Maybe I should meditate, yet the storm in my subconscious continues to grow... will I be engulfed in consequence? I'm so frustrated, I want to cry... I feel like I'm forcing myself to live, despite suffering, for no reason...
I told my friend I wasn't suicidal... I lied... Without beauty, despite this knowledge... I need help. Some sort of help. I'm back to where I was... knowing I need something, but not knowing what it is...
"Something I wasn't sure of, but I was in the middle of,
Something I forget now, but I've seen too little of..."
I'm way worse off right now then I want to accept. I know how close I am to the edge, and how little it takes to cause a domino effect... not much at this point.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Too many things...
There are sometimes things I want to say; so many I doubt I have the capacity...
Just too much.
So much has changed since I last posted something, but I found a note today... I guess it was from a couple years ago, and it really made me think about things. I guess that's where I'll start.
"4-27-2010(Tuesday)
It's really coming down to the final run, isn't it? I'm not even sure what I'm going to do yet, or if I'm even going to make it...
It's horrible, isn't it? I have so many things I should appreciate in my life, so many people who care and probably love me, but it can't change the way I feel... oh, the joys of being bi-polar.
So what am I going to do? I'm still running out of time with every second I sit here waiting... slipping away. So much anxiety about possibly making the "wrong" decision, like I carry the weight of the world, though logically I know it isn't the case. What I know is rarely what I feel. I'm so out of it
There's something I know I need, but I'm not sure what it is... Do I even belong here?
"If you want something, just ask."
If only it were that simple... if only :(
Clearly I'm pretty powerless right now, limited by my own pride and ignorance... my arrogance.
No, I'm not okay right now... not at all. And it won't stop the feeling. Nothing can stop this feeling... Alone and surrounded... Have I always been alone?
I have to see past this, I have to, or I'll just end up hurting myself again, worse probably...
~
(later that day)
It really doesn't hurt to die... I know this because I have almost died... it would have been so much easier... than this...
~
(later that day)
Meh... So begins the next event. I think I may feel slightly better, but still not very much, and I still would much rather go off on my own and be apart from everybody else."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking at my drafts in my blog, that was they day before a suicide attempt. Then I remember Kenny, and the conversations we had the days before his suicide. I revisited them yesterday, knowing that I had to, even fearing what I'd find. What I learned is I did try everything I could... My humanity limited me. It was a period of time when I was very sick, and dealing with the symptoms of Lithium toxicity... I... hope those couple days leading up to his act; I hope... if I had been there, it wouldn't have made a difference. Based upon the way he was talking, it wouldn't have. Maybe that's part of why I was shut down too. I... was preparing. Distancing emotionally. That's what I always fall back on...
I remember now that I had recently been homeless, too. Huge stress on me, already... I was depressed myself.
I guess I'm kind of down today... I wonder if it's as bad as it was then. I can never seem to tell because I don't know how bad it is until I act on it, and I can't tell when I'm actually at the threshold between thinking and doing. I never really talk about it, anyways...
That note was from before I had ever been admitted to a psychiatric ward... I honestly did not believe I would make it to the age 18 back then. Even now, I don't know how long I'm gonna make it... It kind of feels like I'm living, waiting to die. Waiting for the pain to end. But what's the point? What's the difference between that and dying earlier?
I help people, sure, but it's not like it changes me emotionally... It's not even because it feels good... It can be really tiring sometimes. Like what happened with Kenny.
Shortly after Kenny committed suicide, (when I was already dealing with suicidal ideation) I was date raped by somebody who was supposed to help me cope emotionally... Lovely.
So then, as if this is a shock, I tried to kill myself not long after... what WAS weird that it was subconscious. I took my sleep medication, then after it put me into a state where I wasn't consciously aware of what I was doing (like how ambien makes people sleep walk), I overdosed on two bottles of pills. I woke up and I was so confused... I didn't even know what happened. I didn't remember anything. I still don't. I just knew I was depressed... there were obvious risk factors, but to subconsciously want to kill yourself... subconsciously..... I think that gives insight into something pretty profound.
Just too much.
So much has changed since I last posted something, but I found a note today... I guess it was from a couple years ago, and it really made me think about things. I guess that's where I'll start.
"4-27-2010(Tuesday)
It's really coming down to the final run, isn't it? I'm not even sure what I'm going to do yet, or if I'm even going to make it...
It's horrible, isn't it? I have so many things I should appreciate in my life, so many people who care and probably love me, but it can't change the way I feel... oh, the joys of being bi-polar.
So what am I going to do? I'm still running out of time with every second I sit here waiting... slipping away. So much anxiety about possibly making the "wrong" decision, like I carry the weight of the world, though logically I know it isn't the case. What I know is rarely what I feel. I'm so out of it
There's something I know I need, but I'm not sure what it is... Do I even belong here?
"If you want something, just ask."
If only it were that simple... if only :(
Clearly I'm pretty powerless right now, limited by my own pride and ignorance... my arrogance.
No, I'm not okay right now... not at all. And it won't stop the feeling. Nothing can stop this feeling... Alone and surrounded... Have I always been alone?
I have to see past this, I have to, or I'll just end up hurting myself again, worse probably...
~
(later that day)
It really doesn't hurt to die... I know this because I have almost died... it would have been so much easier... than this...
~
(later that day)
Meh... So begins the next event. I think I may feel slightly better, but still not very much, and I still would much rather go off on my own and be apart from everybody else."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking at my drafts in my blog, that was they day before a suicide attempt. Then I remember Kenny, and the conversations we had the days before his suicide. I revisited them yesterday, knowing that I had to, even fearing what I'd find. What I learned is I did try everything I could... My humanity limited me. It was a period of time when I was very sick, and dealing with the symptoms of Lithium toxicity... I... hope those couple days leading up to his act; I hope... if I had been there, it wouldn't have made a difference. Based upon the way he was talking, it wouldn't have. Maybe that's part of why I was shut down too. I... was preparing. Distancing emotionally. That's what I always fall back on...
I remember now that I had recently been homeless, too. Huge stress on me, already... I was depressed myself.
I guess I'm kind of down today... I wonder if it's as bad as it was then. I can never seem to tell because I don't know how bad it is until I act on it, and I can't tell when I'm actually at the threshold between thinking and doing. I never really talk about it, anyways...
That note was from before I had ever been admitted to a psychiatric ward... I honestly did not believe I would make it to the age 18 back then. Even now, I don't know how long I'm gonna make it... It kind of feels like I'm living, waiting to die. Waiting for the pain to end. But what's the point? What's the difference between that and dying earlier?
I help people, sure, but it's not like it changes me emotionally... It's not even because it feels good... It can be really tiring sometimes. Like what happened with Kenny.
Shortly after Kenny committed suicide, (when I was already dealing with suicidal ideation) I was date raped by somebody who was supposed to help me cope emotionally... Lovely.
So then, as if this is a shock, I tried to kill myself not long after... what WAS weird that it was subconscious. I took my sleep medication, then after it put me into a state where I wasn't consciously aware of what I was doing (like how ambien makes people sleep walk), I overdosed on two bottles of pills. I woke up and I was so confused... I didn't even know what happened. I didn't remember anything. I still don't. I just knew I was depressed... there were obvious risk factors, but to subconsciously want to kill yourself... subconsciously..... I think that gives insight into something pretty profound.
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