Twas a crippling blow, what felled me

Never been here before. It’s… different. I overdosed on my psych meds Monday night. I guess it’s a “good” thing I didn’t lethally overdose. I say I’m feeling fine, but I don’t feel like I’m even here anymore. Maybe that’s the side effects of shoveling a few dozen pills down and chasing it half an hour later with charcoal drink while you struggle to stay conscious.

I’m not fine. I’m different. Not ready to kill myself, not sure if I WAS ready to kill myself. I wish I knew why I did it…

I recently revealed some things to my girlfriend I had buried so deep, things I considered to be foul, thoughts I wish I had never had. Nothing specific, just shadows. Haunting hallucinations and thoughts that culminate in violence.

“I didn’t act on them” I remind myself. It doesn’t count if I don’t act. I don’t know why I can’t believe that. Maybe because they’re still my thoughts, still my maddened fantasies? I kept her hid from details, I’m not ready to share any amount of detail regarding this front. But, at least she knows the thoughts are there. That I’m more troubled than I let on…

That guy you see smile all the time, helping the people as he goes, he’s just a byproduct of his own hellish visions, hoping he can endure them and keep being the “good” guy he wants everyone to believe he is. But there’s a breaking point, I can feel it. That’s probably why I choked down those pills. It’s a warning of some sort. People need to know, I’m not alright.

She said that it might be some sort of particular OCD, maybe. But, it doesn’t lighten the burden. I can still see their faces seared into my mind, over an event that never happened, but I greatly longed for. I feel this is getting a little too “real” again…

So, Monday morning I go to work. Just another day, another dollar. Except, he talks to me again. I do my best to shut him out. He creeps back into my mind with a whisper here, a whisper there. He reminds me of who I “am”. How I can’t hide from that. I continue through the day. But, not before fantasizing about killing myself.

Like all this internal thought is terribly full of sin, and the only method of absolution is to be the driving mechanism of my own demise…

All of my friends wanted to know “what happened”, as if it was some singular event that pushed me off the edge. No, it was the flooding of all the painful thoughts of years past to present that made me indulge in the fantasy of dying.

I hate being abstract, it feels like I’m just some angsty kid looking for an outlet because his soul is so dark. Think what you want. I can’t bear to confess my thoughts though, that’s why the general vagueness.

I’m a mid-twenties adult, who’s probably a lot more mentally ill than even he believes and certainly more so than he lets on. And it fucking sucks, because, I’m so brilliant, if I could leave this behind me, I could still accomplish great things. It sucks because it makes me afraid to get close to people. It sucks because there’s nothing but pain on the inside in these times of reflection, even when the thoughts themselves recede, all it takes is a slight trigger and I’m thrown back to the memory. But, virtuous I am, for I have not caved and committed true atrocity, merely stayed my hand, reinforced generosity and kindness.

Call it cliche, but it’s like there’s another me in here. Waiting to feed on my despair and remind me of the terrible things I can do and how easy it would be to accomplish them, and that I would truly enjoy them. A demon if you will.

Ha, demons… Now there’s a thought…

Anyway, to better days even if they’re covered in sin.


One thought on “Twas a crippling blow, what felled me

  1. brentblonigan

    Well, it is good that you are still here. I think I am familiar with the feelings and the numbness. I got through and you can. There are people that need you. We are all one and you do matter.


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