sad, alone, lonely, hopeless, afraid, and i should be dead

i live with my parents (again) and i’m 28 years old, nearly 29. i work on computers for 40 hours a week. over the past year i have cleared up a lot of debt (largely in part because mom and dad have not charged me rent and put a dinner on the table for me). i’m coming up on a year at my current job; the end of May marks both my 1-year anniversary and my birthday.

about this time last year i was calling the police on some dumb ***** and her self-centered daughter when she threatened my life. i was such a wreck, racing down the street on foot with a hiking backpack full of what little possessions i could carry inside, i half-panting and half-yelling into the phone explained that she pulled a knife on me and threatened my life before i left the house in a hurry. i quickly hung up on the 9-11 operator who wanted me to stay on the phone and paced out of the neighborhood into the thick Virginia forest across the street.

i had been here before; in the weeks previous as things deteriorated around the house, i came here with a flask of Jack Daniels to be alone and drunk away from all of the pain. my plan was set now; part of the flask of Jack from my last trip out into the woods was already in my stomach and the railroad tracks used for a variety of purposes lay just ahead. it is difficult to recall what it felt like as i crested the mound of dirt upon which the tracks were lain among the wet, mushy ground of this forest away from the shopping center. the day was sunny and i’m certain i was sweating from all the drunken effort of racing to the rail lines with a 50-lb. pack on my back. i think a certain sense of elation arrived at first, happy i was finally here, looking upon the place i would die. this wasn’t the first time i’ve seen this place. or thought those thoughts. god damn i hoped i could stay strong and finish it this time.

then the fear hit me, slowly at first, but the gravity of my actions did start to weigh down on me. i had a few minutes to reflect on the matter. i rest my pack on the rails, taking seat on my pack, and checked the time on my $10 phone. i give a few more thoughts to the horrible thing that just unfolded with the family i was living with. no regrets there; i was nice, polite, respectful, and i never did anyone wrong. homeless in Virginia, with no friends, limited funds, and a family in a state thousands of miles away who you don’t hear from or feel like you will ever be close to again, things were adding up fast. and that was good because within minutes of my arrival i heard it; the sound of the approaching train.

i wouldn’t be able to see it until it was somewhere between a quarter and a half mile out, rounding the bend and coming out from the cover of the trees. i tossed my pack into the ditch next to the train as it came around the corner, laying down to place my next on the steel of the rail. smooth and cold, i jerk a little as my skin contacts the track. i can feel the train now too. the conductor is already blaring his horn, i’m fairly certain he saw me lay on the track. the breaks are screeching now. i haven’t been able to see the face of the conductor since my head hit the track; i assume he has lost sight of me too. the train is close now, maybe 10 seconds out. i jump to my feet and flip the train off, shouting fuck you. there is a cattle guard on the bottom of the train; if it didn’t kill me pushing me aside at a high speed, it would surely leave me a vegetable.

i grabbed my bag after a few quick thrusts of my middle finger and darted off deeper into the forest. the train continues to screech to a stop for another minute it seems; i’m far enough into the forest and up a hill that no one would easily spot me in the dense foliage, watching as the train comes to a final stop. the sour of the whiskey stings, but i hardly notice in my rush. charged with adrenaline and still desperately seeking an end, i pace around the forest, never straying more than a mile from the tracks. at some point i dropped my phone or threw it into the woods because i start to frantically look for the phone to dial for help. waves of guilt and conviction and hatred and anger and sadness and loneliness wash over me as fast as a breeze and i eventually crash into a seated position out of exhaustion.

with some local police checking the area around the tracks, but not venturing into the woods, i’m safe where i am for the time but before the sun sets i’ve decided i need to move on and out. the train has resumed its course and moved on some 4 or 6 hours after i stopped it. the police appear to be gone too. a second train, this one carrying people, comes down the track shortly after the first left. i walk a hiking path that parallels the tracks, observing the faces in the window, wondering if any of them are asking ‘is that homeless guy the one who stopped the trains?’ a local neighborhood road takes me farther away from the train through some quiet neighborhood with big, woodland lots. when i finally reach a main road that connects to the highways, i press on into the setting sun. i think i got maybe 20 minutes into my road-side hike when i saw the roof-mounted lights in the distance. i paid the police no attention as they passed me but i could hear their cruiser slow, and turn once it has passed behind me. a few seconds went by without anything happening, just me pressing on. then i saw the blue and red light reflecting off the day-lit surfaces of my surroundings. the car pulls up a few feet behind me and the door opens.

the police office says something to the effect of ‘stop, i want to talk to you.’ i’m a wreck right now and this is only adding to the anxiety. i turn around but continue to walk backwards trying to tell the officer i don’t want to stop. he keeps coming closer and asking me to stop and i keep telling him i don’t want to stop and i just want to keep going. he gets real close to me and i try to tell him not too touch me but it’s too late and his hands are already grabbing my arm, he’s using his weight to throw me to the ground in the ditch next to the road. he tries to blame me but the only reason he is dirty is because he acted the way he did; i didn’t resist him once he had grabbed me, i just didn’t want him to touch me. i still hope that fucker gets punched in the balls for that. and he stole my jacket. fuck you. you’re why i hate humanity. piece of shit.

anyway, at this point it’s all over. i’m going to a hospital where they keep me on watch for like 6 hours and draw blood and do all these tests before sending me off to some hospital 3 hours away in the middle of the night in shackles. i spent two weeks there. the judge came in and said he was keeping me on some legal hold thing and that i wasn’t mentally competent and that this would affect my legal rights in the future. i didn’t care. i was so out of it. the first 5 or 6 days i was there i never left the bed, hardly moved, slept mostly, and only ever thought about the image of my head being mashed under the wheel of a train. about how clean the cut would be if i let the wheel sever my neck. eventually i got out of bed and had a change of heart; after several days suck in a hospital i wanted to be free and that caused me plenty of anxiety too.

i ended up moving back to Colorado with family. i’ve been here almost a year now. i got my job a few months after i showed up in Colorado. i will celebrate 1 year of employment at the end of May when I celebrate my birthday.

i’m still hopeless, alone, lonely, sad, bored, afraid, scared, loathsome, depressed, angry, mad, disgusted, and many other words that describe my well-being. i am trying to look for a place to move into now, but i’m only half-heartedly looking. i know how much more alone i will be once i move out. life will get worse. there’s no doubt in my mind. going home to nothing every night sucks. i’m not the kind of person to hang out at bars until the odd hours of the morning and being interested in people of the same sex makes that even harder. i work with people who are nice, but it’s a high-stress work environment and i can’t count these people as friends. even my boss was quick to tell me not to trust anyone after i got hired.

so here i sit on my ass in the guest bedroom of my parents place. my nieces toys are piled up against one of the walls in here; this is not my place. not even my bed, to be honest. my bed is leaning against a wall in the basement with a few other things i will take when i leave. i don’t even own a dresser; my clothes are in produce boxes on the floor or in the basement.

who really cares though? if i stopped coming into work tomorrow that would mean the second shift would actually have work to do and the nigh shift would probably end up picking up residual slack, but it wouldn’t matter. if i stopped showing up at my parents place every night, they’d save money, have less to worry about, and have their place to themselves (and yes, they do not enjoy me being in their space). i never hear from my brothers unless they come over here so i’m sure they’ll hardly notice. i don’t have any friends that ever call me for anything. at all. ever. my phone doesn’t ring unless its a bill collector or a wrong number. period. these are facts. the people i play games with online wouldn’t care; i haven’t been active on Steam or in our TeamSpeak since Octoberish and before that I hardly talked to them anyway. point being who cares nobody.

i want to end this soo bad sometimes.

i started smoking pot again. last august i stopped taking the meds. in november came the pot. immediately i launched into heavy use again. quarters of weed gone in a week (that’s a lot of smoking around working and the rest of your life). it’s been like that since. i put my pipe in the trash can by the curb as i headed into work this morning. i’m sure part of the reason i feel bad and want to die right now is related to the fact that i’m not high or getting high like i usually do at this time. but i’m also sick of it all, i don’t care, it’s not fair, i’m smart, i work hard, i do right by others, i have nothing to show for it and my actions go unnoticed and under-appreciated. it’s hard to stay motivated about living this kind of life, i hope you can understand (but ultimately don’t give two fucks weather or not you do in fact get it).

i honestly don’t know how much longer i will last. i’ve thought about getting a taxi cab into the middle of nowhere and then hiking away from everything so i can shoot myself or something effective like that. i may just wait until i get moved into an apartment so i can do it away from family. at the very least i don’t want *ANYONE* from my family finding out that i’m dead. in fact it’s imperative they don’t. my disappearance should go down in the books as unsolved. i don’t want a marker. i could care less about cremation. i want to return my body to the earth and let my consciousness die into non-existence. i want to be away from it all, from them all, you all. i want to be alone when the bullet shatters bone and scrambles the squishy pink innards of my skull.

maybe i should go back on the meds. that’d be just a mess. can’t do it until i’m out of this place though because it would just cause mom and dad more trouble. ahh fuck this all. fuck the meds. don’t even care about finding a place to call my own most of the time. i want to be that skeleton in the forest around mt. fuji; dead for a long time, alone, and at peace.

i’ll go to work tomorrow. and maybe i’ll find my way to the greyhound and get a ticket to san francisco so i can plunge myself off a bridge with a beautiful view.