I keep thinking about ending my life. I just really want to know what would happen if I weren’t around anymore. My father won’t be going to doctor’s appointments anymore but that is the least of my worries. I really want to see my niece graduate high school this year. But it all seems so far away from me. Everything seems so far away from me, my book, my life. All too far from my reach. It’s like being cloaked in darkness and trying to reach out into the light but nothing is there and all that is, is more darkness.
I want to be free from the darkness but it has a strong hold on me. All I ever see is darkness, all the time. I would welcome cloudy days because it would reflect my mood better even if it would cause me physical pain. This pain I could tolerate more than I could the darkness. It envelopes me. It is like the invisibility cloak in the Harry Potter movie. No one can see it but me. People can also see me but they don’t see the cloak that is strangling me. Sometimes it is weighty on my chest and I can’t breath. I struggle for air. This is not an anxiety attack. Just a physical sensation that I have to remind my lungs to move or they will stop. I know in reality that won’t happen but it feels this way. Then I get tightness in my chest which further constricts the breathing. I do not panic under these circumstances. I just let it happen and try and relax until the sensation has run it’s course. It is difficult to do but taking a deep breath every now and then reassures me that the darkness is not going to kill me.
I am stricken with this heaviness for some reason. Maybe you feel it to when your world is dark and gray for no apparent reason. I used to have reasons. But they don’t matter to me anymore. I don’t think of them like I once did. I could careless. Maybe that is why the darkness has return with an awful wrath. I knew the feeling of contentment was not going to last. I knew it had to end soon. Darkness always wins.
It is hard to explain what it was like when I was briefly in the light. I don’t remember much only that it felt good to finally be in the light. But slowly it dimmed. The tunnel grew longer and as I went toward the light I was enveloped in darkness. And it grew inside of me as well as outside. The pressure of it beating on me was great. It was like being sucked into a tight space much like a confined space. It breaks your heart in two. You feel you will never be one again. Thoughts of death are rampant. They cling to me like parasites of the brain. There are no anti-parasitical drugs that can unleash these beings from my brain. I want to die very badly. I want to self harm very badly but something keeps me from doing these harmful things to myself. I don’t want to be anymore. I don’t want to live anymore. I want to be dead. Dead is good than feeling darkness all the time. I am a lowly person who will forever be a lowly person. I will never get out of my socioeconomic class. I will never live off the high horse, as they say. And this disturbs me. It makes me really sad because I thought I had come so far from my past.
My past is full of demons. Cutting demons. Overdose demons. Demons from my mind. Hence why this blog is called Midnight Demons. These demons want me to be killed. But they have not succeeded so far and they want to so badly. I have ideas of the future and they take it away. It’s too much of a burden on them to have a future. It’s too much of a harbinger for me to think I have a future. The only future my demons see is me lying in the ground 6 feet under or cremated in a urn and hopefully my ashes will be spread on Chelsea Creek behind the City Yards. I will have to give careful instructions for this last departure. My will must be carried out the way I decree it. Then the darkness will be gone and I shall be free. And that is all that I want is to be free of the heaviness in my chest that visits me night after night. Darkness is not my friend nor is it my enemy. It is just there to engulf me and take me away from the light.
I need to leave this world so that I might permanently be in the light, as long as it doesn’t cause me a migraine. Bright lights usually are a trigger for me and migraines. To think that only two weeks ago I was content and somewhat happy and now this darkness has engrossed me. I don’t know what it will do or if it is a side effect of medication. I feel evil. I feel like I can do no wrong. Course all I do is wrong so what difference does it make? Maybe I should destroy my copy of my book so that it will never be published. It is a stupid book. A book about my attempts are stupid and embarrassing. I believe it truly doesn’t capture what I feel inside. I think it is just a memoir that is badly written except for a few chapters. But I must not do anything in this state of mind. Shneidman was right, you cannot kill yourself while you are suicidal. Maybe when I am NOT suicidal I shall kill myself. When I am in the light again perhaps. Because if it will avoid all this, I am for it. My heart is breaking into a thousand pieces. It is being stabbed by a thousand knives as someone once said, either Lord Byron or someone else that I cannot remember at this time of my darkness. Or should I call it my demonic self? I don’t act when I am like this, but I write pitifully. Writing is the only way to keep the dark side at bay.
But do I wish to keep this at bay? Wouldn’t trying to make a suicide attempt be more relieving than some words on a page? The darkness thinks so. The darkness wants this all to end, to stop the hurting and stop the dreadful pain. Only when the pain stops will maybe the darkness will end. But I don’t think that is so. I have not been in psychological pain and still my thoughts have been dark. I think of darkness as my state of being and always there with me because I cannot stand to be in the light. The Darkness is what drives me to being. It is what calls the shots at times. If I don’t feel like doing something, it is because I have no motivation to do so. It sucks the energy from me, it strangles me with every breath. It clouds my thinking of nothing but self-destruction.
Earlier a blogger friend and I were discussing cutting and its addiction. That caused a spark in me that I have not felt in years. I could cut again, I have the necessary tools, though the razor may be dull after all these years. But no matter, I have newer ones. I have not cut in over eight or nine years now. But I have the ugly scars. The scars that remind me of being in a worse place than I am in right now. How I would love to take the blade and just cut them off. To scrap off the ugliness. To scrape off the last reminders of my pain. But I cannot do it. Too many questions will be asked and I am not a good hider anymore. I walk around with t-shirts and it will be highly unusual for me to be wearing long sleeved shirts all the time. But then I roll up the sleeves and then my weakness will be exposed. I cannot let that happen. This cutting and scraping must remain private. No one must know about it. It is the only way to keep me safe. Yes, cutting keeps me safe. I don’t know how it does it but it does. My friend is not to blame for this. I have felt this way, strongly, the past few days. I have the need to do something destructive and I think cutting is the answer. It will fuel the darkness and further tighten its hold on me. I will not be able to escape. I will not fall victim but am I a victim?? I think I am not. I think that I am just a poor kid that has been through some tough times and the ways to get through those tough times has always been cutting. That is my rational. Oh the joy it will bring me to feel the pain and see the blood. It will be a release like no other. Maybe I can make the scars on my wrist bigger as they are now. Maybe I can cut through the adipose tissue and take some out. It will be gross to do so but least I won’t have a fatty wrist anymore. This will delight only me. It won’t be satisfactory to my therapist or psychiatrist. But I do not care. My darkness must be dealt with. It has been hidden way too long and it needs an out. Meds have only partially stopped me from going through with it. But it must be done. Mr. Hyde must have a voice.
Mr. Hyde is my dark soul that comes out when I am vulnerable. He take over and writes his feelings about darkness. He doesn’t want to live. He really wants to die. He is the part of me that writes grievances and goodbye letters to everyone telling them they will be better off without me. I cannot hide this part. It is strong and when I am in a vulnerable state he comes out. He enjoys writing about darkness and death. He is my death wish that has shown itself multiple times now. I am not afraid of him. He is not afraid of me. We coexist knowing that one cannot survive without the other. Though there have been times that I think he really wants to kill me.
He labors for hours. That is what Mr. Hyde would do, polishing his letters of worthlessness and telling people to forget about him, knowing that they would be better off without him. The letters wouldn’t be long. Maybe a few paragraphs to try to explain himself on why he had to go away. Sometimes a song lyric would find its way into the letter to try and stress the point. It always began the same way, “Dear so and so, I am writing this to inform you I am no longer wish to go on. That my life is worthless. Don’t feel sorry for me. Be happy that you knew me. I have to end my life because the pain is too great to bare. I cannot continue to suffer the way I have. It’s too much to bear every day. I have felt this way for some time now. This isn’t a brief occurrence. I wish it was but like Poe would write, I am wretched and know not why. Nothing helps this pain that I am in. I feel death is my only option out of this existence.”
Another example is this “Well I got something to tell you that you are not going to like. I have been agonizing this for the past few days on whether to tell you but I feel I have no choice as no one will let you know otherwise as we have so few friends in common. because of my pain, both psychological and physical, I have decided to end my life because I just cannot take it anymore. I can barely walk more than a few blocks anymore. I am truly disabled and I just cant live like this anymore. I know you are one of my closest friends that I have and have seen me at my worst but this time I feel that I have to do this. I am sorry for the hurt I am going to cause and I wish there was something I could do to ease it but I can’t go on suffering as I am doing. It’s driving me crazy being in pain every day, night and day, with no end in sight despite being on pain medication. I am making a rational choice, least I feel rational about this. The only person that knows this is my therapist. She is trying her best to keep me here but it is a lost cause. I don’t mean to say this to be spiteful. But I just cannot go on suffering every day. I have CRPS and there is nothing they can do for it. Other meds don’t work and I have been on enough trials and seen enough doctors to say fuck this. I have tried for over a year to get my life back so that I can go back to work or at least school but it’s an uphill battle I can no longer climb. So I am saying goodbye.”
If it wasn’t a goodbye letter, it would be a letter to walk away, that people would be better off without him. Hyde is convincing that people shouldn’t like him, that to know him is to have pity and he detests that with all his might. He doesn’t want pity, just understanding.
I am in this kind of mood again tonight. The hurting is bad and I don’t see a way out. I keep thinking suicide is the only option left to me, that my life will be better with me not in it. I guess I have always had these dual selves inside of me. One part that still wants to live and the other that wants to die. But why must it hurt so much. Listening to country music helps only so much. Listening to any kind of music can only do so much when you hurt so bad and there is nothing you can do to help take the hurt away. Even if I was prescribed morphine, it wouldn’t be enough to take it away. This isn’t a physical type of hurt. It is a deep emotional pain that doesn’t respond to pain killers. You can’t put a Band-Aid on this type of hurt. And then the paranoia sets in. The paranoia that you are being watched by someone outside of yourself. They want you to be gone as bad as you wish it to be. And why can’t you just be done with life? Who says that you have to continue to live? Why must the decision to end your life be so painful to execute. All you want is to end your suffering. It’s not like you are hurting someone by ending your life. People always tell me they will be hurt if I were to go away. And I guess that is where the hurt comes from. You can’t leave because of the pain you will cause others. It’s their bargaining chip to keep you here and it sucks. You cannot live and yet you cannot die. It sucks. It really, really sucks.