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My story

by the s project

As a child I was weird. I grew up thinking that the world was as nice as the sunny Sundays I spent in my mother’s arms when I was a kid. When I got into socializing, at the age of 5 or 6, I started realizing that my perception of reality wasn’t realistic at all. That’s when I first felt like I don’t belong in this world. Although it came out as a result of unconscious thinking, this was the first time I really did take a position: I don’t like this world and I don’t belong here.

My parents and other relatives, as well as my teachers and my classmates thought I was just a sensitive child; skilled, some said, weird, said others, but I know that deep down they all knew I was depressed. The only friends I hung out with were cats and dogs and my plants, I took good care of my plants. Yet several misfortunate incidents and the lack of proof of humanity in this world, led me to constantly wishing for an end.

When I turned 12 I was convinced that this whole thing called life is not for me. That’s when I started hurting myself; cuttings, overdoses, abuse of drugs and alcohol, lots of smoking and all that crap, which was my only escape from reality. I tried to be cool, pretend I’m tough and all, but the truth is the more I was pretending to be someone else the more I hated myself. I wished I could be who I always wanted to be; but this me, the real one, had no fit in this world.

From the age of 12 till I turned 17 I tried to kill myself several times; all of them unsuccessful. Probably was too afraid to take it too far, so all of my attempts were kind of timid, and every time I was feeling sorry for myself, and then hated him again. When I turned 17 I knew there was nothing left anymore. I think that up to this time, even when I tried to kill myself, I’d always kept alive a glimpse of hope for what’s there to betide; that there had to be some damn goodness in this life. But boy when I turned 17 I knew from the bottom of my heart that it was over, and funny thing I was totally ok with it. Stopped feeling sorry for myself; no drama, no farewell stories and teary goodbyes. Just pure acceptance of truth.

I took pills, lots of them. Slept on a porch, was found there and taken away. I woke up three days later, still in a semi-comatic state, all blurry around me. I was in a mental clinic. The doc visited me and his first words were “if you had those pills, right here, right now, would you take them again?” Hell yeah I’d take them. “Yes” I said, “I would”, and slept for hours. First thing I wrote down on a piece of paper when I recovered from dizziness and all: “Fuck, I’m still here. What’s left now, only eternal sadness till I fucking close my eyes”.

Anyways, for the next couple of years I was transferred from one clinic to another, got “zombified” after all these medicines and stuff given to me, no friends, no life, no consciousness. I was dead even though I was alive. Couldn’t take it anymore. So I left. I grabbed a few things, put them into my backpack and went away, trying to escape from my misery. Cause that was no life no death no nothing, and I said to myself “you either gonna make it or just die”. I took the first bus and I left my town, then spent five tough days by myself, no pills, no drugs, just me and the sun and the sky and life itself whispering to my ears some forgotten songs back from my childhood. And I wouldn’t make it, I know, until I spent my last night alone in the woods, and there was this glorious sunrise and the woods would burst into life, bees and flies and birds of all kinds and sounds of beauty, all real, right there in front of me, not whispering anymore but singing, singing all the way till the end of space and time. And I said, what the fuck, lets play this game for a bit longer.

And here I am, still playing. Ten years have passed since then; I’m 27 now, tagged as bipolar, combined with borderline disorder and chronic depression. Suicidal? Sure thing. But I don’t feel like I’m losing it anymore. I might lose it someday, or not. But I live for today, as we all do.

That’s my story, more or less. And I’m sharing it with you, feeling proud I found the courage to talk about it. I don’t wanna change the world, the world aint gonna change. But I do want to let others know that I’m here, I’m still here. Cause every time I feel that pain, the pain of suffering, the torture of feeling lost and empty, I put myself thinking of all the people, the thousands of people that are experiencing the same pain. And then I know I’m not alone, and then I know its my duty to stay strong and spread the word and give hope. No, this world’s not gonna change, but you can change, and you can be damn happy with who you truly are.

To those who still read these line, stay strong my friends.

To those who might have read these lines but aren’t with us anymore, may your soul rest in peace.



P.S.: If you want to share your story with me please visit my blog: sproject.blog.com 

This story is also posted there and you can leave a comment. Thanks for listening 🙂

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