6 years ago, I tried to kill myself.
Well, kind of. I wanted to kill myself. I held the knife to my wrist and I pressed. I pressed as hard as I could. I held it there while angry tears ran down my face. I pressed it while people watched. While nobody tried to stop it. I wanted to press it in, split the skin, and watch it bleed.
But I couldn’t. No matter how badly I didn’t want to be alive, I also didn’t want to be dead. I never managed to pierce the skin. I ended up putting the knife in a wall and walking away.
It was the culmination of a lot of years of depression and running from things. From growing up bullied, to falling for women that never wanted to be with me, to my parents divorce, to being jobless and broke. I had never dealt with anything, ever. I just pushed it all away and let it pile up in whatever space I could find.
It never went away though. It was always there, jut like the depression. And when the depression started getting worse, I became intensely introspective. This led me to find all of the things I tried to run from, and they came spilling out. I couldn’t stop them. I was drowning in them. I had no idea what to do anymore. Everything was pain.
On the night I had the knife, I was at a party. There were probably about 20 people in a relatively small apartment, with a fairly even mix of men and women. Everything was normal for most of the night. I was drunk and being more sociable than normal. I had even had a bit of luck with one girl, but then she left. The night was starting to wind down and I watched as people kept pairing off. Everyone was finding someone to hook up with, which is cool, but I was alone… again.
I’m not sure why this was the night that that was too much for me. It had always happened that way. There was never anyone around that wanted me. Nothing has really changed in regards to that. It always hurts when I’m the one that ends up all alone, but it was never that bad. I don’t know if it was the alcohol, or the growing depression, or what, but this was the night.
I can’t even tell you where I got the knife or why I had it. It was just sort of there. I think we may have been fucking around with them and trying to throw them into a wall. I can’t be certain. I was drunk and that part is hazy.
After I put the knife in the wall, I went back in and, as far as I can remember, tried to sleep. I slept fitfully for a while and then called my mom to see if she could pick me up as I didn’t have a car at the time.
I didn’t see anyone from that night for nearly 6 months. I didn’t really realize it at the time, but this was the final straw in a break with reality. It had been happening for a while, but that was when it all finally happened. After that, I stopped going out. I didn’t see anyone for months and I barely left the house. I pretty much didn’t leave unless I was getting food. I spent as much time as possible on the computer playing stupid little games to distract myself from all of the stuff that had piled up. However, I’ve written about all of this before. I’ve just never recognized it as what it really was: a break from reality. I took time away from the world to deal with all of my shit.
I don’t write about this with sadness. I never felt an ounce of melancholy while writing this tonight. In fact, I’m feeling better than I have in a good week. For some reason though, this story felt like it needed out finally. I wasn’t necessarily hiding it, I just didn’t know how to frame it and express it. I’ve mentioned it and sort of written about it before, but never in detail. It was time for it though. Time for one last tale.
I think this is a good final post for this blog. I don’t really have much need for it anymore. I’ll blog again, but most likely not here. This was the journey out of my deepest depression. While the story isn’t over and there’s still much I need to work through, this phase of it is done. It is time to move on to other venues and outlets.
So thank you, and goodbye.
I torture myself with every word
Those said and those unspoken
Looking for the meaning behind them
Laying myself open to their truth
I bathe myself in it
Seeking those things that hurt
Just so that I can feel
Just to avoid the emptiness
Numb for years and years
Looking for solace in anything
I cut myself upon the words
Seeking respite in the pain
I hold it close to my heart
Seething and burning
Worn like a cursed saint
My maleficent protector
When there is nothing but pain
The violence escalates
Feeding on itself
And breeding its filth
Corroding and consuming
Eradicating and extirpating
Destroying everything it touches
Until I am empty again
Where once I found perverted solace
There is abject nothingness
And the cycle ends
Waiting to begin again
I would give it all to you
If I thought you could handle it
If I thought you could survive
But you are not my salvation
I never asked for any of this
I just wanted to be normal
Instead I found comfort in pain
And gave it everything I was
I do not seek your ruin
The way you seek mine
I’ll destroy myself soon enough
With your help or without
Do I go on
Or does it end here
Where do I find the will
To choose one or the other
This was the 4th drawing I made one night and the first in what would be an ongoing series dedicated to my own life. When I drew it, I had just switched from Holywood to Good Apollo I’m Burning Star IV: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness. Until now, I hadn’t ever given much thought to how perfect that album title was for the situation. In truth, it was chosen because it is a favorite album of mine and it soothes me. I draw much inspiration from it, having heard it hundreds, if not thousands, of times since I found it. It is one of the most important albums in my life, and it seemed only fitting that I would listen to it this night.
The original plan for the drawing session had been to listen to all 3 of Marilyn Manson’s albums about his fallen god in order, but after I finished Holywood, I started to think about the woman I was kinda-sorta involved with at the time and how that relationship actually existed. Being in the state I was in, actually seeing that I was not special to her in the ways I needed to be special was threatening to collapse my psyche and throw me into a downward spiral. So, I hastily changed albums and settled on something that I knew would bring me back from the brink and put me back into a safer place. It was my safey-safe. And there began my journey in art and self-exploration.
The upper right – ‘I almost lost you’ – came about from nearly spiraling when the album changed from Holywood to Mechanical Animals. When it was averted, I simply wrote the line on the page. At the time, it felt like a note to her, but looking back, I think it was just as much a note to myself. I nearly lost my mind delving into a situation I really wasn’t prepared to deal with that night (it took me nearly 8 months from that date to finally confront it and I’m still dealing with it today).
The words are ‘*MROW*, ‘My Dear’, and ‘Whore in Sheeps Clothing’, which come from “Keeping the Blade”, “Always & Never”, and “Welcome Home”, respectively. At the time, they were written to my first. They were evocative of our childishness (the *mrow*’), my unrequited love (‘my dear’ crossed out), and my eventually pain and lashing out (‘whore in sheep’s clothing’). They are floating in the scribbles, buried in them and written upon them. They were always on my mind, as the scribbles represent. But they were also shrouded in chaos.
These words were just the ones that came through as I was drawing, but the entirety of the lyrics of the three songs represented here capture the emotion conveyed within. They speak of the pain of loving and having nothing returned. Of wanting and not being needed. In “Always & Never” the Writer says ‘I’m still waiting here, my dear/For one kiss from you’. While this, to me, speaks of loving and wanting, there is also a literal interpretation in my own life: I had just one kiss with my first love, a very chaste peck on the lips, and I have been waiting for the next one for the past ten years. Not from her, but from anyone. With ‘a whore in sheep’s clothing’, I am not wanting to call her a whore. More accurately, it is about her being something other than what I saw and my inability to cope or be with what she truly was. I loved what I thought I saw, but the reality was far different from what I wanted and needed.
While I had my first in mind when I drew this, it turns out that it was quite apropos to the situation I was dealing with at the time. So much of that played out as an accelerated replaying of my first kinda-sorta relationship. It’s eerie. Even the names were similar. I cared deeply for both of them and they both came about during very chaotic times in my life. Looking back, it seems that the last one was there to close out the first. Through it, I found closure. I was finally able to put her to rest and move on from her. And while I am still working on moving past the latest, I was not crippled the way I was with the first. This time, I am hurt but I am not giving up and running from it all. I have chosen to stick around and deal with it, even if I can no longer do it directly with her.
This series, taken from a single night of drawing, was drawn with my future in mind. When I did it, I thought it dealt with who I was talking to at the time. I wasn’t wrong, exactly, I just wasn’t right about what it meant. She was there, but not as I saw her. She was a ghost reborn and she exited far sooner than thought. I think that going over all of this and finally posting it all and talking about it will be my way to say goodbye. As I lay it bare to the world and analyze it in the written word, I am seeing it in a new light. I am finding things within it that I hid from myself before. It was far deeper than I ever expected.
I showed all of this to her, but it didn’t go as planned. I had hoped to share it with her, but I ended up just showing it to her. I think that was part of why I decided to leave. It was then that I realized that things were not as I had seen; that I had blinded myself to her because I was in need of closeness, which she could not really give. I had imposed things upon her subconsciously that she could never have lived up to. For that, I am sorry. For the rest, I am hurt.
As a preface, I am nervous writing this blog. I know the other party will read it. However, I have to write it, no matter what. I’ve talked with her about it as I have talked with my closest friends about it, but now I need to put it on here. This is where I am most free. It’s not even that I can’t say this stuff in person, it’s that I have time to think writing it that I do not really get talking. I have better phrasing and expression here, though there will be a certain level of mania in this particular entry.
So, I came home from my trip a couple days early. It was unfortunate, but in order to save myself and the friendship, it had to happen. if I stayed, there was a strong possibility I would force myself into becoming very hurt, which would have destroyed the friendship. I didn’t know why I had to leave at the time. All I really knew is that something was wrong and I had to go. I gave opportunity to say the words that would keep me there, though I didn’t know what they were. In the end, there were no words that could be spoken that would have kept me, but I didn’t know that until later.
I will likely talk about what happened over the weekend more at a later date, but for now, I have to start at the end.
I left less than an hour after we finally slept together, though that was not the reason I left. We had already discussed my leaving the night prior and that morning and she was aware I would be going, but it happened anyways. I had finally lost my virginity. It was fun, but after 26 years, the build up of time had made it impossible to live up to. I learned much from the experience, but I am getting ahead (behind?) of myself.
It took me 400 miles and 7 hours to even start to understand what had happened over the weekend and why I had to leave. In truth, I’m still processing it all. I know the why and the how, but there is still much to analyze. I realized that I had spent the entire weekend denying a part of who I was in order to finally be able to lose my virginity. I learned that one of my base desires is intimacy. I need to touch the person. I need to be able to hold them and kiss them and have them next to me. Really, it should not have been something I was surprised to find. I have always written about wanting those things, but I was not aware that it was so deep that I could not turn it off. Because I was trying to deny it to conform to what she wanted, it was causing a lot of internal strife. It was becoming physically painful to sit near her knowing I couldn’t touch her. It was also detrimental to how I viewed her. It wasn’t really fair to either of us and would end up hurting everything. leaving was the only viable choice. If I had stayed, it may have been okay, but I risked a great deal of pain for myself and destroying a very good friendship that I had and need.
I have to pause. I’m not writing now. This has become an outpouring of my internal dialogue surrounding the issue. I’m still working on it all. I have come to a certain kind peace with it. Part of it does still hurt, but it is not the soul wounding it has been in the past. I did learn much from the trip (more than detailed in the last entry), but… there is still some pain. It was a good trip, and I am happy for it, but now it means I am still looking. Which is a slightly foolish statement. I knew she wasn’t who I was looking for, but that deeper part of me couldn’t accept it until I got there and saw.
On the trip, I had to reconcile who she was with who she had become in my mind, which is never an easy thing. It’s something that shouldn’t happen, but I have spent my entire life within my head. I have lived innumerable lives within my mind. I play everything out, though it never goes as I see. When I had no one, I still had my mind, so I turned there to get through the insufferable loneliness. I’m still learning how to get out of my head so much and just do stuff. It’s not easy when it’s all you’ve really known. I’ve pretty much always been that way. I don’t remember having imaginary friends, but I definitely spent more time inventing stories with toys than playing with other kids.
I know now more than ever that I need to find someone that can share with me the things I need. The subject of codependency came up this weekend. It’s a definite possibility, but I don’t know that it is entirely true. Yes, I do feel like I need someone in my life, but I think it is more than a codependent need. I have always felt that I was not made to be single. I’ve always felt that I need someone in my life. I don’t need her to take care of me and push me, because I can do those things, but I want someone that will. I don’t know, really. I do know I need someone. In spite of the disconnect, I did feel better near someone.
In truth, I have no idea right now. I want to write, and I want to be coherent, but those things can’t mix right now. I’ve gotten lost and diverted so many times tonight that I have no clue if this will make any sort of sense. I’ll post it anyways, because coherent or not, it has been good. In an odd twist, I think I talked this all through in person better than I did writing it, though I did not attempt to go into such depth in person.
This doesn’t feel like the place to stop. So much more wants out. There are things I have yet to cover and things I didn’t intend to cover. I… I do not know. It is all very confusing. I am at a sort of peace with what happened and am glad that it happened, but there are still things I need to suss out. I’m sure they will make up other blogs, there are always other blogs.
Because of the trip, I do feel ready to move onto other things. I am going to try and move back to California. I have no idea when it will be or if that is where I will actually go, but I will leave Oregon. It is too small for me. For now, the thought that I will go is enough. I’ll figure out the rest later.