Dead

I keep thinking it’s the only way out to end the pain, but my rather saner self tells me there is probably more of that awaiting me in the afterlife. My bleeding heart cries in its constant aching as it sheds its blood to my system thinking it would flood it, but the idiot doesn’t seem to get that it’s only doing its job of pumping blood, only with yet extra pain for me to feel.

I’ve been down that road before; I’ve reached for the pills, emptied them on my bed, and gulped them slowly one after the other, resenting myself as I swallowed each one. And when I was done, I switched the lights and started crying myself to sleep one last time. Just about the time the drugs started kicking in, it hit me what I was actually doing; I was abandoning my kids to no one who loves them like I do, to no one who has the will and the stomach to fight for them like I would, despite all my pain and my agony. And I started crying different tears in my loneliness as I was dosing off, I was crying to God to spare me, only if my life would make a good difference in theirs. And the darkness seeped in and I started losing my grip of my consciousness little by little.

I woke up the next day, about 10 hours later than I should have. I was sick, I was sore, I was alone, I was still in endless amount of pain, but I was alive… and it hit me that I had to be, even if my life felt so worthless to me, the quality of theirs still means something; this world still holds one single meaning to me, them.

And I have been pushing through every day since, knowing that I will never do it again. I know it’s no longer a choice I can make. I wake up every day knowing that truth about myself, I have no control over my life; the one thing I did as a desperate act to find that control, I prayed for it to be reversed because my life means something to someone else whom I love way too much than to abandon them. That simple, and that complicated.

So in my worst episodes, I curl in bed and I cry as I imagine a different scenario every time hoping time would pass and I would eventually fall asleep.

I imagine never having waken up that day, and I imagine what they would have figured out my departure, and I sigh sarcastically… they would have never known why, because I am so tough and so strong and so independent, they just never saw it coming.

And I look at that broken glass every time the pain attacks me too much, and I imagine myself holding it and slitting my wrist with it, and I close my eyes as I imagine what the warm blood would feel like drowning my consciousness, and I cry harder and harder as that part that’s linked to my kids starts crying in panic.

He told me to imagine how they would break the news to my little boy, and how he would fail to grasp it and they would have to repeat it and it would traumatize him, and he didn’t get that he just made me hate myself even more; it just makes me hate this life even more.

So recently, I just go to bed every night with a different scenario that only ends with more self-loathing.

Yesterday, I talked myself into another resolution… I am dead. Yes, I already feel dead and hollow; I am just a loving shell who provides certain things for those boys, that’s all I have to be… God knows I don’t wanna write much anymore, and I don’t wanna create any art and I barely sit and enjoy any of it as much… I am dead, it’s just that my body still works, and I have to keep it working until it’s no longer a necessity, until it fails on its own.

I just wish that kind of dead came pain-free. I wish my eyes wouldn’t swell from all the tears, and I wish my skull wouldn’t hurt with all the headache, and I wish my back wouldn’t ache like that… I am dead, can I please be numb too?!

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~ by insomniac on July 1, 2012.

4 Responses to “Dead”

  1. :( I hear you.. and pray it will be alright for you inshallaa very soon!

  2. That was dark. Too dark in fact.

    You’re a good Mom, and you’re a good sister. I also believe you’re a good daughter, and a great grand-daughter. I believe your friends would vouch for your friendship as well. I don’t think anyone hates you.

    You love Tulips, the moon, and a good calm song. You’re there around for those who need you. I think you never really let anyone down.

    You’re also a good worker;even though you hate your job, I think they wouldn’t make it without you.

    You are good. You’re a good person, on so many levels. And that’s not a compliment.

    And above all that, God is there.

    So of course it had to be reversed ..

  3. Suicide is always tempting.

  4. He told me to imagine how they would break the news to my little boy, and how he would fail to grasp it and they would have to repeat it and it would traumatize him, and he didn’t get that he just made me hate myself even more; it just makes me hate this life even more.

    This part held so much pain, guilt, frustration and truth in it that I could feel my heart race while reading it. The world is what you make of it. It could be a beautiful place if you want it to be. You can do it rather than escape it.

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