Survival is sinister

I have survived 2 very serious suicide attempts, first one was 6 years ago, the last one was 18 months ago (exit bag and overdose). I would love to say that things have improved for me since them but they have only worsened. Waking up in this hell once again after a long time preparing your death and building the courage to do it, well, is absolutely horrifying. I don’t see the world the way I’m supposed to, I only see hell, and for me, the fact that I survived my attempted escapes adds to the nightmare of being here. For the past 6 months I have given up on life altogether, I don’t even pretend with my fake smile and nice clothes anymore. I am planning my third, and hopefully, final attempt. The noises of this world that seep through my open window chills me to the bone. I live in a lovely picturesque area where people are wealthy and extremely polite – but to me, it feels sinister, it’s like a scary circus. It’s also like groundhog day, for the past 6 months, this is what I hear constantly over and over again;

Builders are working on the house next door, they start early and say pretty much the same things to each other over and over – they play a radio that plays the same songs over and over – one man whistles those songs over and over and there is laughing, the same laughing, over and over. 

There is an infant school close by, I hear them arrive, I hear them play at break and lunch time, I hear the whistle that calls them all back in and I hear them all go home – the hours turn into seconds, the days turn into minutes and the weeks and months etc. My time melts away now that I have given up and it seems to me that these kids are on fast forward, speeding through their lives, headed for the hell that awaits them, it’s waiting, it’s hurrying them up. I can hear it – you can too, you just have to stop and listen and forget time. 

I hear my neighbours go about their business in much the same fashion. The girl upstairs giggles constantly and loudly whenever there is a man in her flat, but she never laughs that way and so much when her girlfriends are there, surely this man (or these men) are not that funny? – No of course their not, it’s her mating call of sorts and now that I hear it over and over and so predictably, it makes me feel quite sick. It’s not attractive or funny, it’s repulsive.

I have lied to my friends and family (saying I have taken a job abroad) so we only email now. These emails all say the same thing over and over, seriously! I will spare you the boring details, but it has made me notice that we are all living some weird groundhog day. We repeat the same mistakes over and over, we never learn, we say the same things, we do the same things, over and over – and, most importantly, no-one is really happy, in fact, everyone is really f@cking miserable. Some chose to show it and speak about it, others hide it and distract themselves and play the game, play their set role in this horror movie – career girl, mother, father, comedian, dancer, joker, poet, model, fat pig, nasty person, good person. It’s all set out like a script and they just blindly go along with it. Because if they just stopped, like I have done, and forget time, and just observe, they will see how ridiculous it all is and how they are slaves and blind and ignorant.

When I wake up each morning , it’s the same sun that lights up my room as everyone else experiences, it’s the same birds that send their songs to me – and I do not see or hear beauty, I think it’s a trick. Instead I see the starting of another nightmare, another zombie movie played out, or like a freakshow circus where the ‘sweet’ music plays with a sinister undertone and everything glitters and sparkles, but in the end it gives you a headache – it will go by really fast so I don’t worry, these mornings all melt into one these days. 

Most people do not think outside of their scripted minds, they go with the flow, see what they are supposed to see and hear what they are supposed to hear, I suppose these people are relatively ‘happy’ – but I stand by what I say, that if they stopped for long enough they would see the truth. Why can’t this ‘depression’ this ‘illness’ be cured? – Because it is not an illness, it’s the truth, you can’t cure the truth, you can only try to hide it, which is what medication does. I have done some research;  87% of people that try a serious suicide attempt, go on to try again, regardless of medical help – sometimes soon afterwards, sometimes many years later, sometimes they recover inbetween and try hard to accept this life, but once you know the truth, it always creeps back.