Saturday, November 26, 2005

Black Hole Gravity

My friend Milla just told me that one of her friends committed suicide about a week ago. I didn't even know the guy, but now I am sitting here bawling my eyes out.
Life is such a bitter joke. Yeah, isn't that fuckin emo. But it's true. Every little positive thing that happens just seems to be made to prolong the misery, it's like the proverbial dangling carrot, and the few bonds we make just serve to make us feel guilty about wanting to escape the fuckin mess we call life.
You're trying so much to make it better, but everything just seems to dissolve in thin air... like it doesn't make one fuckin bit of difference at all.

I am not doing well. I haven't been doing well in the past days, but I can ignore it when I am around others... it's crazy, and it sounds stupidly melodramatic, please excuse that, but they have no idea that every minute, they are saving my life. On my own, with nothing to distract me, my mind is harassed and crowded with nightmarish images that I can't push away or block out. The side in me that doesn't want to hurt my friends and family is the one that constantly tries to chase those thoughts, those mind images off like obnoxious flies, but there is another side in me that always threatens to overwhelm whatever reason I have left. When you have no hope, those thoughts become seductive sirens; when every cell in you burns in despair, the thoughts that whisper to hang yourself, slit your wrists, put the barrel of a gun in your mouth, so intense you can almost taste the metal, knowing that in the fraction of a second, with a single blast, it would be over, almost become a balm, a sick-but pleasant fantasy.
The other day things got so bad that I had to leave the house - my room becomes this bubble where my madness is allowed to suspend reality. Seeing people gets my mind straight enough to hang on and wait it out. It's this in and out of despair that I hate. If I stayed in despair permanently, I could just give up, I would have good reason to. If I stayed out of it permanently, well, I need not explain. But going into this insanity where you just want to scream the terrors out of your mind till blood vessels burst, till your voice fails, and you feel your head is about to explode with the pressure, the despair is so extreme that even knowing it may soon be over and I will come out of it is just not enough hope to outweigh it. And I want to cry for someone to help me, and then I post this shit and feel foolish when I feel better the next day. But it is fucking exhausting, knowing that eventually it is gonna start again, and once again I have to go through this, and again it will be on my own when it happens. I have qualms about suicide, but I am ambivalent about it, too. One part of me believes it is wrong, because I hate hurting people, but the part in me that knows pain and that bottomless sadness feels like if nothing can stop or heal it, it is cruel to force people to hang on to a life that is nothing but hell for them. The truth is, the only thing that stops me from killing myself when worst comes to the worst, is that I love my dad, my family, my friends, and that my dad alone has gone through too much already. I have seen him after he lost his girlfriend, he had fallen to pieces, and I just could not do that to him. But that still doesn't make the sadness go away. I wish I could put in words how bad depression can get, I wish I could explain so people who have never experienced it won't turn away from me in disgust, calling me an attention whore because I posted this. Trust me, it took me a while to hit that submit button. But the whole point of this blog is that I want to make people understand, that I want to communicate in writing what I can't say in person. I have to say it, it is part of the exorcism, and I just ask people not to get it the wrong way. Writing all these dreadful things about suicide make me feel guilty and shit, but at the moment it happens - even though it may be over later - time seems to be suspended. All you know is that you are in this dreadful darkness, feeling so low you want to extinguish your life, hating yourself so much you wish you didn't have to be around yourself, and the pain is so intense you feel incapable of waiting it out. You want to scream your lungs out, vomit that despair out like some venomous bile. I wish I could explain and justify it, but there isn't anything to justify. Madness is madness precisely for that - because it can't be explained. It just is. It is an ill mind taking over from your reason, suffocating you like vines suffocates a tree. It is part of yourself, but a parasite eating you up at the same time. That day when I had to leave the house, I went to the bookstore, and in there suddenly this nauseating dizzy spell got over me. It wasn't a physical thing though... it was like mental dizziness which got so extreme it became physical. Am I making sense? I went downstairs, sat in front of a bookshelf in the psychology section, and crazily started scanning it, for some book that would give me an answer, a formula, a method, a reason to stay alive - and it's laughable, because it never could. And as I sat there, the despair nearly tearing me apart, the dizziness so bad I thought I was gonna faint, it suddenly felt like the world was coming undone. Like the glue that holds reality together had dissolved and dried out, and reality somehow almost dismantled and disintegrated, just for a few seconds, but it was enough that I thought I would lose my mind. At that point everything in me just wanted to curl up in a ball in the corner and cry, like a reflex to whatever I saw at that moment. My reason did everything to pull myself together, but it's hard to fight another part of yourself that is so dominant, that lives in a completely different reality, one in which public self-control is not an issue, one in which you can't afford to save face because the terror in you is too great to be contained for only that sake.

Now I am saying it out loud. I need help, I need a fuckin reason to live, but I can't find too much that gives me hope. I am sick of waiting for life to get better. I am sick to death of waiting for having a happy life one day, maybe. I am sick to death of spending my days frantically distracting myself from that black hole inside me. I love going out, seeing my friends, being nice, doing nice things for them, create happy moments, and it's all genuine, but the minute I return home, there is nothing left to distract me. And I get tired of running from it, and I get tired of putting this strain onto my friends, of becoming an unbearable person. The thoughts, the urges are getting louder every day, and I end up wishing I wasn't attached to anyone, because sometimes, and increasingly more so these days, I really just want to fuckin die.

Todd left mourning people in the wake of his death, I don't want to do that. His death reminded me of that... It's like the minute I started to think about death, this happened as if to remind me of what I may cause, and it only adds guilt to the sadness, but offers no fucking way out. It is just like closing the door of my only way out, but offering me no solution to deal with what I am left with. But I don't want to go on like this, and all those people can't make the sadness go away while I am still alive. I need a better reason to live than other people, than just trying to not hurt other people. I can't depend on others to stay alive.
And I feel like a piece of shit because my friend just lost one of her friends, and all I whine on about is my own misery. That is the shit about depression, it makes you a fucking selfish immoral asshole. But it's like you're using all your energy trying to stay afloat, how can you save others? It's being in a state of panic struggle to survive. I hate being such an animal. I'm supposed to be a being with higher thinking and being unselfish and all that. And I am trying so hard, but I just haven't got any more energy left.

I can imagine people wanna give me shit about, hey, you've just got a degree, you've got so much ahead of you, and you live in a privileged country, and blah blah.
I don't care.
I just want to love. And be loved. And be able to accept that I am loved, perhaps, by some, or liked, or even just tolerated, without constantly questioning it, without being paranoid. It's like I have lost the ability to absorb it, like some poisons can make your body lose the ability to absorb vitamins, and even if you get them in, they are of no use to you. Does that make sense?

I am so sorry about the way I make people feel. I am a needy piece of shit at the moment, and I know how annoying that is. I don't want to be like this, believe me. And if I find a way to stop that, I will.

I'm sorry Todd. I'm sorry Milla. I'm sorry, everyone.

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