Monthly Archives: October 2007

writing

So much…

So much…
So very much goes on. And often in the blink of a second of time. Each moment, moving quickly to the next in a whirlwind of existence. That is life. Endless amounts of moments stacked end to end, all on top of one another, building to infinity.

So much…
So very much happening. Has happened. Thoughts, running random and out of control in my head. Dying to get out. Aching to be set free. And I move past them, scarcely giving them chance to be thought, much less put down on paper. And were I smarter, I would take the time to put them down. Exorcise the demons of thought onto the paper of memory and healing. But so much time slides by when it is easier to just numb myself and avoid.

So much…
So very much loss in my life and my world lately. So much time gone by, where there is no longer the chance to just sit and be with those who have been so very important to me. My grandmother passed on September, 11 2007. A month and three days later my grandfather followed.

So much…
So very much pain following these losses. I mourned my grandmothers passing. It was sudden, much sooner than we had expected. There were tears shed. But my grandfather. When he passed, there were few tears, and I was very stolid against the overwhealming sense of loss and emptiness. I stood up against the waves of sorrow and refused to be drowned. Those waves managed to flow around me and did not affect me, or so I thought. Then last Friday it all had built up to the point where I was litterally drowning. Truth, it had been building that entire week. But I had avoided it, and ignored it. Then at the last possible moment it hit me.

So much…
So very much confusion, and emptiness. I was in a real bad place then, last Friday night. Bad. Like when you hear people make a comparison to something that you KNOW is bad and then say it was worse. Well, it simply was the worst place I’ve been. Odd how I can know that so surely and completely. Last December, my best friend was having coffee with me one night and told me he was worried about me. I called him and told him that this time, it was ME that was scared. How so, you ask? Well I was suicidal. Not that this was the first time, mind.

So much…
So very much weariness of this life. What set this episode apart is that it was the first time that I actually had the real desire to just lay down and be done. I actually WANTED to die, to not wake up. And for once the fear of the knife wasn’t present. The aversion to the pain of the blade piercing skin was nonexistant. I knew that I could so easily accomplish my own death. And after accomplishing that task, I could lapse into the blissful sleep of unthinking, unknowing, nonexistence, death.

So much…
So very much disillusionment. My best friend offered to take me to Lakeside. I said no, but promised to call if it got bad enough that I actually picked up a knife with intention. And while I did pick up a knife, the intentions were different. I called my #1 and asked him to please take me to a friends house so I could get some anti-depressants. He agreed and was on his way to my house when I finally got up off the couch for the first time since getting home from work. I walked into the bedroom and picked up one of my pocket knives and stared at the blade with rapt fascination, as I took off my shirt and dropped it to the floor.

So much…
So very much fascination. I watched myself take the knife to my chest. I pressed the tip against the skin of the pectoral muscle just above my left nipple. Slowly, carefully, and very much present to the moment, I drew the tip of the blade across the skin about an inch. Leaving in its wake a glistening of red droplets of my own blood, my own pain, suddenly present on the outside of this mortal coil. Again, I took the point and placed it just above where the first cut began, and drew the blade across. This time with slightly more pressure. Once more after that, again a little harder. And one final time after that. Each cut was slightly deeper than the first. The last was enough to reveal a crimson line where the skin had been torn by the blade.

So much…
So very much clarity. Not gained by the act of cutting. Not gained by the absense of grieving. Not gained by any of the things that preceeded or followed. Clarity not existing in my world in those moment. But only gained days later. Gained today, at least somewhat. Nothing mind blowing, or earth shattering. But a bit of the feeling of waking up after a fever has broken. Not quite that strong, mind. But the inkling that I am beginning to come out of something.

So much…
So very much to learn. So many things not understood. So many things not done.

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