I live in Scotland, have been a sufferer of severe depression for as long as I can remember and I have become complacent (or is it fearful?) with that depression. When it was at it’s worst, there was no limit to the harm I did to myself. It seems the “comforts” have deluded me to the extent that despite resenting every minute of breathing out of this pointless body and into this redundant dead land, I get transfixed on the “comforts” and numb myself into acknowledging nothing.
It’s time to change this now. To get back to the level I was at before, the person who took a load of sleeping pills with the intent of ending it all, the person who died once, saw himself lying on the bed from above and then came back. The person who justs want to scream at the top of his voice for as long as possible, letting out all the anguish, all the bad memories, all the guilt, all the resentment towards those who have played their part in all of this before finishing myself off completely. Ironically, I am a gifted screenwriter/poet/songwriter who could spend the rest of his life living very well and very comfortably. But to do so would betray myself and my need to self destruct and escape. I refuse be around people en masse, refuse to be patronised by “friends” who tell me “Oh, you’ll be okay. Just think happy!” and family who only want what they can gain for themselves before chewing me out, refuse to be “aided” by medical professionals who throw pills at me, who recommend psychotherapy (the last time I went for that, I ended up offering psychotherapy to the person who was supposed to be helping me), who ignore every little thing I’m saying and roll out the redundant cliche they learned at school…
I’m rambling…
I am not a reactionary sort. Never have been. Everything is considered and analysed to the point of suffocation. Which in many ways is the worst thing a depressive can do for it serves to remind us of why we are depressed in the first place. The worst times are when waking up and the fog that offers us welcome lucidity before we properly awake and the reality sets in. I don’t want the reality anymore. I can’t breathe outside. I can’t co-exist with people anymore (and I have tried). I don’t want this anymore.
But I can’t do this alone anymore, because I am complacent. Because I am fearful. Because I resent myself so much that I will keep myself alive as punishment. So I beg. Someone leave with me. See me through to the end and I will return in kind.
No one should die alone.
Ajeno (AjenoMerveilles@hotmail.co.uk)
1 comment
There’s something I fail to understand about suicide, but I don’t mean to confuse you. I’ve been depressed for quite some time, and I, like so many others, see no point in life itself. But why suicide?
I suppose I should rephrase my question. Why us? We are the sufferers in silence. We are the brothers and sisters who share a very important thing with one another: truth. We see the world for what it is.
Some of use accept it. Those of us that do tend to linger on, usually in misery. Why they do so is beyond me, so please understand that I’m not saying you shouldn’t kill yourself.
But WE refuse it. We deny this world the pleasure of torturing us. We commit ourselves to nothingness, prematurely ending our undeserved pain. We all feel the same feelings. We are not alone, and I’m saying that WE shouldn’t kill ourselves.
We are a group of men and women, boys and girls, all of us dedicated to the ugly truth that this world is nothing but a shell of what it could be. The world is a fucked up place. Why is it that the ones who admit that fact are the ones who get left behind?
Maybe we should all just kill ourselves. But evolutionary instincts tell us not to. I say FUCK instincts. But think about that for a moment. If we have the power to kill ourselves, we have the power to defy our instincts. This means that we have the power to effectively ignore the most powerful driving force on the face of this planet: the drive to live. Doesn’t that make us more powerful than all the stupid bastards who think it’s worth it to keep going?
I say we use that power. People don’t understand that this world is a wasteland. I don’t think they ever will. They’ll cling to their instincts like a child to its mother’s breast, never letting go of the foolish notion that life is beautiful. We can show them what they don’t see. We have the power to fuck this world like it’s fucked us. And if we use that power, we just might be able to rid ourselves of the very people that make our species as fucked up as it is.
I’m not saying we should commit murder. Who knows, though? Maybe we should.
What I’m saying is that we KNOW something. Living – at least as we do today – sucks. This is something that the rest of the world won’t accept, but perhaps it hasn’t been presented in a way they can understand. You see, we are BETTER than them. We understand what they don’t, won’t, or cant. And we just might be able to fix them.
They won’t thank us. They won’t praise us. And they won’t apologize for shitting on us. But it would at least catch them up to speed. With all the world understanding and accepting that human beings need to change their ways, things might actually change. If everyone on the face of the planet stopped pretending they were alone and actually started voicing themselves, we might actually be able to make progress.
There are some things we can’t control. Diseases. Accidental, unfortunate deaths of loved ones. Pain would still exist. But we, brothers and sisters, DO HAVE POWER. And I say we band together and fucking use it.
Let’s try to save this world. It’s clear that no one else is doing it correctly. And if the world refuses us still…if, in the face of unbending truth, the rest of our species still denies us…I say we burn this planet to its core.