Bittersweet

Apologies for all the bleakness lately. I’m not feeling very skippy of late, so it’s either this or nothing that gets posted. And frankly, this is my blog so I can cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to. You would cry to, if this happened to you – dum dum dum dee dum!

So I wrote this on Saturday afternoon. Its very dark. The problem with my personality is that I have a dry & macabre sense of humour, but when the humour is on vacation, you’re left with just dry & macabre. Bummer.

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For years everytime I get down my mother avoids leaving me alone. I’ve always treated this with utmost frustration as I have never felt the understanding of feeling suicidal and was irritated by her worry. Nothing could be that bad, its the cowardly way out, life is worth living for… but I am not feeling all of that shit right now.

Driving 160km on the highway this afternoon, I visualised my car gliding off the bridge and crashing into a great big ball of flames onto the ground, with me in it. Coming up to a stop street, I see an 18 wheeler driving up to the right, what would it feel like to drive for the middle of it? Would my head be sliced off, or could it just be smashed into the steering wheel and explode like a vegetable does when its too hot? I wonder how long it would take for me to slip into nothingness after taking pills, what kind of pills would it take? Do I even want to die like that, though? Is it drastic enough, wouldn’t I prefer to be buckled and broken? Everything I see is a potential way out.

Coming up to my house turn off, I realize that opening the gate to let myself into the yard is not what I can handle right now, so I head down to the beach. Its already six pm and getting dark, but I can see the waves so I stay. I have music blaring, my windows are up and my doors are locked. I wouldn’t mind dying like this, in a void of my own, in my cave mode, where I can be me and no one can hear my sobs as I try to listen to my heart for the first time in years.

Its screaming out to me. How could I have forgotten how to be so raw? Its so apparant and constant, this sadness, how have I managed to let it hide and keep it away for so long? I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m sad. I am not me, I’m not really anyone right now. I’m doubting everyone I can see on the beach thats laughing. What is so fucking good about their lives? A girl is running and laughing and her hair is blowing in the wind. In her early teens, I can see what I once was. I was happy once. How do I get back there, can I get back there, do I want to get back there?

Save me from this darkness. Please, just save me from this darkness. And then, I realise my dogs need to be fed.

At home, I serve their food, and I place their bowls on the floor in the kitchen, along with myself. My eyes are open, but I don’t see anything for the tears are in the way. I put my head on my knees and cry. Big, ugly, loud tears that I have not allowed to come for far too long. My blind dog, who usually notices nothing, perks up his ears as he hears my cries, and turns away from his food to climb onto my lap and licks my wet face. He stares into my eyes, just stares. Its almost as if he can see my soul, and into my pain.

With one final lick, he gently climbs off me and goes back to his food. Calmly I get up, go to the bathroom, and throw up whats in my empty stomache. I wash my face. I clean the kitchen. I get ready to cook dinner.

Is this what life is about? Is this really all there is to live for? Somehow, I don’t think so.
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I’m feeling much better today, by the way. I think the worst is over, albeit this depro session has been the worst. I’m glad I have people that love and support me. I feel so sad for the people out there that don’t.