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’m sorry things got weird. We had a connection, I thought that meant it might lead to something more than friendship. The movies lied to me, they told me that’s how it works. They don’t bother telling me that most times, it doesn’t mean anything.
How was I supposed to know otherwise? Nobody told me that part. You just seemed like an awesome chick and we got along so well, so I thought we could be more than friends. I didn’t mean to make it awkward, I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.
I got confused. Nobody ever listens to me, so when you did, I thought it was because you liked me back. My friends never treated me that way, so I missed the cues. It didn’t help that you’re flirty, but I should’ve known it didn’t mean anything, it never does. I should’ve known I wasn’t special to you.
I still think about you; wonder how you are. I could ask, but it hurts to talk to you. I’ve gotten better about not looking at your Facebook profile, and I deleted the pictures you sent. I wish we could still be in each others lives, but I’m too ashamed of how it ended and too hurt by the loss. Maybe another time, but not now.
Goodbye, and remember that I cared for you once.
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.
I know that I’ve been very sporadic in posting here lately, and I apologize. I’ve had a lot going on in my personal and professional life. As open as I am on here, I do still occasionally need some time to step away and deal with shit in my head before I can put it to words and deal with it here. I’m sorry that I have been quiet. I know not many people read this, but I do feel a sense of connection to those that do.
One of the bigger things is that I did find work, and quite quickly. My last day was on a Friday and by Tuesday I had found a job. That was awesome, but… it was just part time. Working only 16 hours a week has been fucking with my head. To make matters worse, it was on Fridays and Saturdays, making it more difficult to go out with friends. The good news is, my boss is awesome and is working to get me more hours. I hope to be up to full time by mid-February. Again, it will be over the weekends thus making hanging out and socializing difficult, but work is work and I have to be able to pay bills before I can afford to go out with friends.
I’ve also had to deal with the fallout of ending a friendship. I talked about it before (here), but this past month and a half since it happened hasn’t been easy. I’ve had some good friends to talk it out with though while I get my mind straight. It was, unfortunately, for the best though. It isn’t easy to stop talking with someone you have talked to for hours a day nearly every day for 6 months, but sometimes it is the only way it can go. There are times that I still want to talk with her, but it is healthier not to. I cared for her, but I was just a friend and I cannot put myself through that any longer. I am learning to end things sooner rather than later, now. No longer will I burn for months or years, hoping her feelings will change. They don’t. Not ever, but that is another blog post entirely (which I am working on, in a broader manner).
It hasn’t all been struggle though. I ended up getting a Christmas bonus from my old job which I spent almost entirely on items for my artistic endeavors. The biggest of these was a camera, so that I could take better pictures of my stuff. The camera on my phone wasn’t cutting it any longer. I also ended up buying myself some more paint and about $100 worth of DIY vinyl toys from Kidrobot. I have spent a lot of my time making art lately. I’ve done some digital work, I’ve already finished 3 of the vinyl toys that I bought (which I will eventually post and put up for sale), and I’ve been working on paper again. It has been good, getting back into art so much. I want so badly to find a way to make a career out of creating art. I’m not entirely certain how to do this, but I figure I’ll keep making art until i figure it out.
For the most part, this time away has been me trying to find my center. I have been writing some, but I haven’t made many full-fledged posts that I want to share yet. I have some concepts and ideas started that I will flesh out more when things are a bit more stable for me, but I am not quite there yet. While I realize that this blog has always been about me posting rather haphazardly and chaotically through the storm that is my emotional life, I find that I am wanting to do more than just that now. This will be my 78th post here in about 6 months. That’s a pretty furious pace considering what I have been writing about and how long each post is. I have talked about it before, but I want to try and post more substantial and thought out things now. I’ve gone over the chaos of my first 25 years, now I want to focus on ordering it all and actually discussing things I am passionate about. That’s not to say I won’t go nuts from time to time and just stream my emotions onto the page – I am far too emotional for that – but it does mean that I will take more care with what I post.
To that end, I have been working on a couple new things for my online presence. Previously, I had created a Facebook page dedicated to selling and showcasing art that I wish to/have already sell/sold, but I have also now created a page dedicated to my art, called, simply, forgotn. I have been posting my art there lately and will be adding more of my past works to it as well while I continue to chronicle my artistic endeavors. Alongside that, I have also created a second blog that will be dedicated to my art. At this time though, it exists only in name as I have yet to add content to it. This will be coming soon though, and I will promote it here when I add it. There’s also an etsy page in the works and a website that I have been designing in my head for a while now, though the website is still quite a ways off.
I never really knew just how fucked up my mind was. I’ve been lying to myself for a very long time. As far as I know, the last person I *really* opened up to was Anna. She stomped on my fucking heart when I did it. Haven’t done it since, until very, very recently. Why should I have? If every time I let myself be vulnerable I was going to have my heart crushed, why the fuck should I be vulnerable?
Well, because there is no way to find anyone in this world if I’m not willing to be vulnerable. Yes, some of them will hurt me, but there will be one that never will. And she is worth all of the heartache I have to go through to get to her. I’ll find her and it won’t matter anymore. Not the one that laughed, not the ones that gave me snide looks, and especially not the one that told me I wasn’t good enough, because I’ll have someone that cares and she’ll be all that matters.
I’ve blamed everything but myself for all this time. I blamed my size, saying no one wanted to be with a fat man. I said I was just too awkward, that no one wanted to be with someone so weird. That I just didn’t know how to talk to women (partially true, I do have issues engaging, but that can be overcome). I said they were just using me, that they were bitches that wanted anything from me but love. That… a million fucking other things. None of them are really true. Yes, being big limits me, as does being awkward, but those are hurdles, not walls. There are those out there that don’t care.
In truth, it’s all lies told to comfort myself. The hardest truth is that while I pined for love and whined about being alone, I never did a goddamned thing to change it. Not really. When it came to love, I never opened up. I gave them what they wanted and hoped they would freely offer what I wanted. I never put in the effort. I never let them know what I wanted. I wouldn’t let them see me vulnerable unless they showed me they absolutely wouldn’t hurt me. Of course, they couldn’t show me that. I never gave them a real chance to. I assumed they would hurt me, so I did what I could to keep them from doing it.
I paid for that dearly. I’m now 26 and have never really let anyone in. I even held my friends and family back. I’ve been more open on the internet than I have been face to face. I’ll tell a random blog all about the shit inside me, but it’s hard to tell the people around me. I’ve internalized all of it and it has tried to destroy my mind. I’m still not comfortable opening up about it. It’s my pain and my shame and it’s hard to talk about. I don’t like to cry in front of people, but if I talk about this stuff, I will. I did when I wrote this.
I think that I’m more willing to open up now. I know it has to happen if I want to move forward. It’s a scary thought though. I’ve spent my life not letting anyone see any of it. Going out, putting on a smile, pretending it was fine. I know those that know me well saw through it, but I still had the veneer on. I still did everything I could to hide it. I also know that they could see there were things wrong, but I don’t know that they ever knew what.
Because I held it all in, it used to manifest itself in other ways. I used to cut. A lot. I tell people I don’t keep lighters around because I liked to set stuff on fire, but the real truth is I do it to keep from burning myself. I used to hold the lighter on or to a piece of metal and then hold it to myself once it was hot. I’m covered in scars. I used to have severe anger issues. There were holes in my walls. My knuckles are still fucked from hitting stuff. I used to hit myself too. Anything I could do to hurt myself physically. It’s why I wasn’t afraid to do stupid shit that would hurt me. Nothing I did to myself physically could hurt me as much as my mind already hurt.
Alcohol never helped either. I found the bottom of many bottles and never got away from the pain. However, alcohol could let me overcome myself. Sober, I have kissed all of one woman and that was 10 years ago. Everything else I have ever done has come well into a bottle. it’s still not much, but it was something, though it is bittersweet. Yes, I have done it, but I didn’t feel much. I didn’t remember much. I didn’t really enjoy it. Needing alcohol for that was not good though. It was a band aid to a larger issue. I am glad I never managed to lose my virginity drunk. I would’ve regretted that.
This all comes back to what they all come back to. Loneliness. This time though, I realize it was my fault. I drove people away. Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t give me any knowledge of how to find someone to let in, but I do know to try and let them in when I find them. I still hope it doesn’t take much longer. I know I need to grow before I can be ready, but I also feel like I need it to be whole.
I will be dealing with some of this soon, in a very direct way. I will be doing something that forces me to confront many of my fears of intimacy. I will be going on a trip and putting myself out there. I do not expect it to end in pain, but the potential for it is there. It requires me to go far beyond my comfort zone. It requires me to be vulnerable. It terrifies me, but it also excites me. It’s been a very long time since I put myself out there. This will not be a trip to see Her, but it will be a trip to help me break out of the shell I have encased myself in. It is the next step in healing and moving forward and I hope it propels me far.
I still fear dying alone, but I do not think I will be the one causing it anymore. I still fear being hurt, but I realize that cannot be avoided if I really want to find love. I know few could hurt me the way Anna did. I have to risk it though. If I don’t risk getting hurt, I risk dying alone.