It is incredible how much of my life has become its own joke. I cannot sleep and I Wish that it was due to some drug. At least I’d have something to be agitated about. I know that you say that drama follows me and I am trying to accept that in the hopes that it will not define me but there are some nights I just can’t anymore. I have just been thrown out of the place that I paid a month’s rent and security for just to find out that a daft little Egyptian boy does not like my behavior and has me thrown out. My behavior involves dealing with the woes delt by closing off and late at night wandering the streets. Something I have done since I can remember. So I am stuck with the homeless situation again. I am tired of all of this that I did not bargain for. I am ready to sue the universe and my angels for no longer taking my side. I get tired of saying that this is ‘The best of all possible worlds!” Romanticizing my soap opera to make it more bearable. It always seems like the short end is me. You cannot imagine how many times I walk in front of cars hoping that the driver will be careless. That way it wouldn’t be suicide and the whole damn thing would have been over and done with and everybody can go on with their lives. I have lost so many friends in the process and have not gained any as compensation. Heck. Maybe they weren’t really friends at all. I certainly thought that they were.
This morning has become as heavy as the heat that preceded it. I really wonder what can go wrong in my life to make me finally lose it. I am scared and do not appreciate the past wave of events which lead me to dislike the future. I write this because writing always helps. It’s crap I know but it seems to be the only salvation left to me right now. My so called friends don’t listen because I am too old to be so down trodden. A heap of pathetic piece of shit is what I feel like.
‘This is healing!’ ‘This will heal you!’ ‘You will feel better after this!’
I woke up in a white cold room with no clue as to how I got there. I looked directly up as I was lying on my back then left to be confronted by a white wall. I returned my gaze to the ceiling and then to my right and realized why the place smelled generic and clinical. I noticed there was someone else in the room. To my far right someone was strapped on the bed and sleeping. I sat up and noticed two uniformed men in dark blue and black standing outside the room. I gathered my thoughts and gathered my bearings and still could not understand why I was dressed in light green cotton cloth while a light breeze was going down my back due to the opening of the cloth. “Think!” I thought to myself. Where are you and how did you get here? In a wild frenzy I decided that I was going to find out the truth to all of this and decided to swing my legs off of the bed to my right and as I put weight upon my feet I fell down realizing that I did not have the right to do so. Upon reaching the floor all hell broke. The policemen ran into the room and two more uniformed people, one man and one woman, rushed in to help me up on my legs. Their uniform was just white. A loose cotton shirt that closed from the front with matching pants and somewhat geriatric slippers. I saw the male in white indicate to the two men in darker uniforms to keep back. He did it with a hand and quickly came to my aid with the help of the female. I looked at them in confusion as I still had not connected them to life. Hell I had not connected myself to my life. “Estás despierto finalmente! Mi alegro. Cuidado, tienes que poner todo tu peso a tu derecha. Haz tenido un accidente y tu tobillo izquierda está torcido.” (“I’m happy to see that you have finally woken up. Careful! You have to put all your weight on your right foot. You’ve had a little accident and twisted your left ankle badly.”). ‘What is this?’ I tried to say and realized that I couldn’t because my bottom lip was also busted and the act of putting my lips together hurt.
I was not given any information except for the fact that I was in my hospital in the mental health department. An hour or so had passed and in walks a familiar face. ‘Hi’ I said full of shame. By this time it had all come back to me but in that hour I was lived in a state of fear. Fear of the reactions to my action. This I did not want. This I definitely wanted to avoid but like the idiot I was I did very little research in preparation of my action. Thus this I have to live!
“I am sorry”.
“You need therapy”
“I did not think I would see you again.”
“You scared me. M. is coming later to see you. He is very worried as I was. C. and her mother were also worried and are happy that you’re awake.”
“Can I see her?”
“Not now. Let’s talk about what happened. Why did you do that?”
“Why does anyone do that?”
“You just had almost a week long sleep.”
“I feel foolish, stupid, dumb and I just want to cry.”
“Should I call someone?”
“No, no. It’s just that the magnitude of what I’ve done and it’s failure have given me shame and look where I am.”
“You sent out this letter. Do you remember that? That urged B. to call me and I went on a rampage looking for you. Remembering that you had C’s keys as well. I called her and because of that we were able to find you.
You need help. We are going to see that you get it”
“How did I sprain my foot? My lip!! What happened to it?”
“At one point you woke up in a frenzy and realized that you were not dead and went crazy. It took all the nurses to calm you down and two guardsmen.”
“I don’t remember any of this. It sounds like a bad film. This is not my life”
The realization that I slept for so long just sinked in. Along with that came the thought of feces and pee.
“You mean I shat and peed upon myself all that time.
(Silence) I am so sorry you have to live through this”
My new accidental life was decided upon. I was not to go back to where I was staying and all of my keys were confiscated. M. who had been to see me a few times and explained more of what had happened ad well as what the doctors found in my system was my designated host for the time being. I didn’t realize that the keys had been confiscated until my “savior” told me that he was uncomfortable with me staying at his house. I remember the feeling I felt when he said that. It was similar to the feeling I felt before my unsuccessful ‘accident’. It felt like a week had passed since waking up until waking up once more in the middle of the night to run to the bathroom and relieve myself. Of course the drugs I had in me and the drugs taken prior to my stay at the hospital had worn out my memory so I fell coming out of bed but only to start a warm stream of pee in my shorts and on the beautiful floors of M.’s living room. Finally. I decided it was time. It was time to accompany that stream with tears. I started to cry and shake like I never have before in my life. M. had already woken up and ran to my side to hug my shaking sobbing self.
Sadly there are many ways to commit suicide and one will always be at it until the deed is done. It doesn’t matter if others think that you are mentally ill because at the end of the day aren’t we all. The manner in which we decide to deal with it is what is different. I say it always “We were born perfect.” I don’t believe it. I am always afraid when someone describes himself or herself as normal. This being said, I went back to my other tactics. Slower but surely effective and tiresome.