Why I stay

I’ve been suicidal since 7. No one knew but me. I tried to choke myself , or I’d tried to freeze to death. Nothing took me out but exhaustion. Too tired to finish. Some who know me are glad I’m still here. I’m not in a way, but it’s so complex to help anyone understand.

I had therapy since 11 or 12 till now. each one different and 2 fresh minds listened. I had doctors for pans unexplained. A few were answered the rest I had to just accept. They come and go.

All throughout those times death came across my mind. Across my eyes. I had to mature faster to cope with the age difference in my family. Relatives dying. Most I hadnt been “conscious” enough to see. Conscious meaning it wasn’t so significant that I could remember their face at that age. Friends of my family frequently come out of the blue to tell them someone has died and then then ill begins to spill. Attending various funerals one not even crying.

I didn’t want to remember.

My mind is like the greatest sponge in the long term portion of it. I can some times remember so much about an event. The food i ate, a smell, a sound, and colour. The emotion. My memories are what haunt me always. Because I can be that damn sharp. They send the grit to my teeth, the tears to my eyes, the anger to my fist, or a numbness. They like to pop up like an unwanted mosquito at a wonderful picnic.

Ignore it and suffer a rash or swat it away. Persistent? Kill it. My life.

Sometimes I can be out in the garden. Mind of a child carefree and absent. Then it suddenly comes back. That heartache. The one come from the center and radiates through the soul.

Why…am…I here?

I asked this question in high school times to myself one night. I was depressed. I had a dream for a wife and intent on finding a suitable candidate, but5 I d9on’t fit in here on this plane. The very people I identify with are the ones who turned me away. Wht am I to do?

I was rejected. and pushed away. And if i picked a straight girl I was mocked and humiliated. How am I to know? I cut around those times. I’m so proper it kills me. The educated outsider. I had my clean procedures before doing harm. So picky.

It’s why suicide is all ways an option I can’t do. No pain free way, no way to keep it clean, no where to hide and be undisturbed.

I live. Not because I want to but because though I can’t understand how I’m here. That “danger area” in my mind locked from being pried open. I know I’ve been here before. Because I don’t remember thi8s place but the times of old. Unfamiliar. That de ja vu feeling that brings out a wave of tears.

I don’t see things as possible any more but I am here. I donn’t see things as impossible either but I am here. I’m here because I can’t fathom the unfathomable that might just be or not. Life is the ups and downs. That’s all I’ve seen.

It doesnt ever trully get better. Because better goes back to worse. And saying it just “is” leaves no one the room to question.

Im here because I hope one day I will die. I hope my dreams will carry me off and I will be that marvellous person this life just will not allow, respect, or want me to be.

That man in my soul, the soul that is mine. This body. I tried to nurture it. Yoga, meditation, some type of movement, resting early, eating more vegetable along with a leaner meat. But it can trully be as tiring as depression. Having to make yourself wake up. Looking in the mirror and see deep into those eyes. The eyes look back and ask me is it time yet? Am I done? And I have to give it the bad news of no. I try to enjoy the hearty laughs and cooky times with my 3 friends. But the moment I get in the car I drive away and no it will be a long time till I see them. That heartache gets so strong. It’s like the butterflies you get from seeing “the one” but it comes from the heart instead of your stomach.

My heart aches when it sees someone that interests me. And it aches because it knows well the chances are getting slimmer day by day. Oh I’m here. But just here. Without rhyme or reason. Im here.

I’d love to have a reason to fight, to live, to keep going, but I don’t. That doctor? No. That friends? No. I don’t have any reasons to stay. And a million reasons to go. From the biggest to the perceived petty reasons. But I’m just here. Purgatory. That end between. Just like I know what I want, I also know that other. That option. And I’ll never be brave enough to do it. To carry out the final task. Knowing you have family and friends and people who were just brief acquaintances. They will all ache. Some won’t even know why. Just like I had to hear aboutg loved dying and going to those funerals looking at open caskets. I ache so much. My Aunts. Two people who really understood me and never judged me. One I knew longer than the other. They are gone. Unlike my family who wished they had stayed. I cried for days wondering why they could come take me with them. They didn’t know the truth about home. That i struggled. They just knew i was the silent one. The one who had to keep a stiff upper lip all the time.

That lip is now stuff stiff. My face still has the hidden tales and my eyes. My eyes see all. And my brain remembers. Why am I alive? My answer is I’m not. I’m just here.