I’ve been feeling a bit low of late. You might have noticed that if you’ve read my recent posts. What can I say? I’m sorry. This demented bullshit is all that’s really pouring out of me these days.
Don’t worry though, imaginary reader! We’re going to turn this ship around! Soon…
Except, I wrote this really shitty piece today and I was in the mood to really, you know, post it as it is. ‘Who reads this blog anyway?’ was my general line of thinking ‘I might as well start dumping all my emo trash here’. The temptation is undeniable. I feel lighter when I’ve uploaded all that trash that’s stored in my mind. This thing’s like a pensive that way I reckon, no?
Well, in my defense, hospitals aren’t nice and I’ve just finished spending what seemed like forever there. I did my time. My time being ten eternally long days. I was a good boy. A really good boy (Don’t take it from me. Ask my nurse, she’ll tell you. That’s what she said to my parents too!) It was too much to handle, something I realized after I’d handled it and come back home. After they’d poked me with needles and drips, filled me with pills, jabbed thermometers in my armpits and ice packs everywhere else, and soaked me with sponges galore.
So excuse me for feeling a little suicidal?
For thinking of things like, how fatal are air guns at point blank range?
For harboring a rather unhealthy interest in ropes.
For thinking how many of my prescription pills would it take to do me in.
Shouldn’t have binge watched 13 reasons why.
Don’t let me fool you though. I’ve got other reasons too. For thinking really casually about suicide. Really casually, no cause for worry. I would never even cut myself! I swear. I’m too much of a wuss.
For instance: I hate my course, see. It’s stupid. I wish I could graduate already and pursue something that I’d really like to pursue. I regret the day that that I decided to waste three years on this course. Bad decision, bad.
Another instance: I’m becoming a loner. It’s pathetic, really. I can’t seem to help it.
Truth be told I’m filled these days to the brim with remorse and regrets. Small ones big ones, real ones, imaginary ones (it’s hard to tell the difference). It’s not pleasant. And I’m not going to go through each one of these here (relieved?).
I tried distraction. Netflixed and chilled for a while. Seemed to work. Except the stuff I was watching was slowly bringing me down. Bojack Horseman, Rick and Morty, effing 13 reasons why. (why??).
I’m already being fed medication, so that’s that.
Strange though that as I write this I feel lighter. Probably because I’ve ended up writing (again) in the same vein as my previous pair of posts. Although I’ve been lucid and straightforward this time. Unflinching and shameless. And that’s good, right? Truth is, on nights like these, it feels nice talking to you my imaginary reader.
Pssst…Can I tell you something? I think I’m in love with you 🙂
And from this day on I’m going to be honest, naked and ugly on this page. I hope you understand. This is what I need right now. Bear with me reader? bear, as it were, with the Bipolar Bear.
P.S. This is what I wrote:
I slip I slide deep down an abyss where death awaits (or eternal torment?). I lie among my lies trying to shun reality. My reality is agony. My reality is me deranged, I know not in my own eyes or in that of others too (does it matter?) Does it matter? If all I do is slip and slide down oblivion’s well. Damned to hurt those I love. Damned to thoughts that lure utter helplessness. Damned, losing myself. Me obsessed with my own reflection. Me perplexed by my own reactions. Me, damned to write in twisted tongues. From a rotten brain. A fatal defect comes this way, see. It is but me. It is but me! Me who hurts myself, me who kills myself. Me who dies. This is who I have become, a shade of my former self. A ghost. A mere ghost. I am already dead! Why then waste all that bread? Of what use is it? Feeding the dead?
Not a very pleasant read is it? Don’t worry, we’ll turn things around 🙂
And now, I intend to sleep a really sound sleep…