I feel like I write too much on here, speaking of me being a jerk, so if that’s the case please someone say something. It’s really a case of me just being lonely.
Anyway, to the point; I was waking up today and I had this brilliant semi lucid dream, I can remember enough of it to know that it was the best written bit to come out of my brain in……. I don’t know how long. It was so well written it woke me up a bit, made me angry. I tried to commit it to memory, and it was almost instantly gone, because as I said my brain is a jerk.
This is why we can’t have nice things. All the good stuff is getting leeched off in my sleep. Then I did the thing I often do and tried to go back and lucid my way back to what I lost and got into another dream that wasn’t as good, and also wasn’t memorable.
If I was healthy, I would probably channel this into trying to recapture that creativity. Forget that, I don’t want to be that guy, I hate that guy. I’m really sick of the whole “find a silver lining in a dark cloud” attitude. I’m sick of living. At this point I’m staying up later and later because I don’t want to be awake or asleep, I’m trying to dissociate further and further.
I’m not calling the hotline because all of my suicidality is passive. If I did call them, they’d call my case worker and my therapist and they would call me, which would interrupt my dissociating. Which would defeat the purpose. I’m getting rid of hours while I wait to die.
That’s probably why my brain is a jerk, because I’m a jerk. Screw everyone and everything involved in it. I want specific things, and I can’t have it. I asked explicitly and offered whatever effort I could give, and I was given a solid cold shoulder. So there’s nothing left but to wait for death, or for someone to take my offer.
Why would I tell this world my stories? It doesn’t want my stories, it doesn’t want me. It just won’t let me die by my hand because that would be upsetting.
2 comments
Hey Heartlessviking. Youre one of my favorites here. This space is for those who struggle with suicidal thoughts, even chronically. By extension, this is a place for people who struggle mentally in general. I say write your guts out here. It hasnt been too much, and in fact I come here often myself, for simular reasons.
I dont think youre a jerk, especislly not for coming here to write. It isnt too much. Id like to point out an odd juxtaposition though:
In the beginning of your post, you used very considerate language and demonstrated concern for others. Toward the end of your post, you say Screw everybody and everything, with seemingly angry tones. Thats a pretty major shift in a short time.
Im not an expert on you or your mind or your life. Not by any means. Youve been here for a while though, and I can tell that something is really off about you. The mention of a suicide hotline would tip one off too, obviously.
I guess what I mean to say is that Im really concerned about you and that Ihope youre as alright as you can be relative to all other variables.
In some book I read when I was a kid (maybe The Lion the Witch & the Wardrobe) there’s a part where she ‘s reading from a magic book that tells a wonderful story, but as soon as she turns each page she forgets what she just read and can’t turn it back. She ends up frustrated and angry, I think she accidentally tears the book trying to go back, then quits reading.
Great metaphor for the post-dreaming state you mentioned, the frustration of forgetting what it was, and maybe even a metaphor for the author’s inability to capture his own ideas before they’re gone forever.
So do we just accept our jerk brains, tear the book and quit? Sure, that’s one option. I’m certainly full of abandoning good ideas. The fact is the world will never know what it missed. But ?? will.
Thats the raw deal that forces writers to keep writing, forces artists to keep painting, musicians to keep playing. Because if you don’t you’ll only suffer, and no one will ever know why except you.