Dear Friend,
Every day is a struggle and I feel like its ground hog day--same shit, different toilet. Every day is a battle, and every night is a long arduous nightmare, killing every bit of hope you have left within you. I forget myself, who I was before it contaminated that version of me and made me someone, something I cannot understand. Someone I fail to recognize as... me.
I don’t know why I’m writing to you, or what good it’ll do to me or to you if you read this. You don’t even know me at all to begin with. But someone once told me if I ever felt misunderstood or lonely, you are there. You’re persistently there to listen to what people like me has to say. And you have no idea how much I appreciate this.
It took me a while to get hold of myself, take control of my actions, but then it hit me again. I think it was a dream. But then again, was it? I think it was a nightmare, my life flashing in front of me as I found myself drowning in a bottomless sea of misery and coldness. I felt like a seed wedged at the bottom of a pot, with soil being thrown at me, covering every bit of sound trying to escape my mouth.
I am sorry. This is probably a bit too confusing to comprehend at this point for you and so, before you stop reading, let me make this simple for you. I’m dying. Simple as that. The next day I might not even be here.
Last night I had a weird experience as I slowly tried to drown myself in the bath tub. As the water hit me, I knew it was over. No point in struggling. A vicious wave hit me, knocking me down, dragging the air from my lungs. Even though my mind had made a decision, my body did not agree with it. I could feel my lungs screaming for air, crying out, as my legs and arms thrashed around wildly, hoping and praying to get free. I knew I had to stop them, hold them still, but it was so hard not to fight, with the air leaving me, It felt like there was a heavy blanket over me. I couldn’t breathe... and it was grave, demoralizing and shockingly scary. I could feel my heartbeat slowing down, progressively more, and I felt the panic fade away into numbness. I tried to breathe in, but when all I got was water... my mind went blank... my heart began to give up its fight and my body stopped altogether... I died. Or so I thought until I found myself on my bed, waking up from a bad dream, sweat beads on my forehead and neck.
I wondered of all the ways I could die if I don’t die because of my disease, since that night. Drowning did not feel like the worst option after experiencing it once even though it was just a morbid dream.
I don’t know what happens to the people around you when you are dying. Some people just give up on you, like you are already dead to them and some try to make you feel like the king of their world. Which for me is not okay because being in the spotlight of your entire world is not what you would want before you die. Then again you don’t want to be ignored by someone you care for or love. Sometimes I feel so lonely and depressed, the worst kind of depression which makes you think that no one around you can ever love or understand you. It’s a harrowing state of being alive when all you see is sadness and struggle. It is like looking at the world wearing dark sunglasses, which hides every bit of goodness alive in this world from you. All I know is the pain, and the pain is the only thing that knows me. The rest all fades away in comparison.
The other day I was walking down the autumn leaf filled pathway looking at people, mostly. An eighty year old grandmother walking down the pavement, perfectly well and healthy, her grandson or perhaps great grandson clutching her hand with one of his hands, waving and jumping to reach for a balloon disappearing along the golden horizon. A boy trying to put all the things inside his bags to cycle home but interrupted by his girlfriend’s plea to stay back a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes. Some of us don’t even get that.
Imagine the horror when your mother finds you relapsing on your birthday, inside the washroom, a few inches away from the land of death. She carries you to the hospital, not letting go of you for a second, sending you into the ICU, and waiting outside to hear the good news, though a part of her heart knows that it can be bad news as well.
Well I lived. After a lot of integral medications, psychoanalysis, side effects, I survived till I degenerate again. I imagine a troop of virus or bacteria invading my somatic cells, while I slowly disintegrate to nothingness. It is a very vivid image, gory at first, but then calm. Cool. Cold. The repercussion of it horrible. Scary.
Father is dragging me to watch this new movie. Watching movies is one of my favorite way for time to elapse. But right now, I am not even bothered to go. I am too hollow to enjoy life anymore. My heart is too heavy to find joy anymore. But I am gonna go anyway. Guess I can pretend to be happy to make the people around me think I am actually more than just a ailing piece of encumbrance.
I don’t know if I will ever write to you again. You probably don’t even want me to write to you. Sorry I wasted your time by making you my one-way therapist. But you don’t know how much I appreciate you reading this. So thank you.
Love Always,
-A
Every day is a struggle and I feel like its ground hog day--same shit, different toilet. Every day is a battle, and every night is a long arduous nightmare, killing every bit of hope you have left within you. I forget myself, who I was before it contaminated that version of me and made me someone, something I cannot understand. Someone I fail to recognize as... me.
I don’t know why I’m writing to you, or what good it’ll do to me or to you if you read this. You don’t even know me at all to begin with. But someone once told me if I ever felt misunderstood or lonely, you are there. You’re persistently there to listen to what people like me has to say. And you have no idea how much I appreciate this.
It took me a while to get hold of myself, take control of my actions, but then it hit me again. I think it was a dream. But then again, was it? I think it was a nightmare, my life flashing in front of me as I found myself drowning in a bottomless sea of misery and coldness. I felt like a seed wedged at the bottom of a pot, with soil being thrown at me, covering every bit of sound trying to escape my mouth.
I am sorry. This is probably a bit too confusing to comprehend at this point for you and so, before you stop reading, let me make this simple for you. I’m dying. Simple as that. The next day I might not even be here.
Last night I had a weird experience as I slowly tried to drown myself in the bath tub. As the water hit me, I knew it was over. No point in struggling. A vicious wave hit me, knocking me down, dragging the air from my lungs. Even though my mind had made a decision, my body did not agree with it. I could feel my lungs screaming for air, crying out, as my legs and arms thrashed around wildly, hoping and praying to get free. I knew I had to stop them, hold them still, but it was so hard not to fight, with the air leaving me, It felt like there was a heavy blanket over me. I couldn’t breathe... and it was grave, demoralizing and shockingly scary. I could feel my heartbeat slowing down, progressively more, and I felt the panic fade away into numbness. I tried to breathe in, but when all I got was water... my mind went blank... my heart began to give up its fight and my body stopped altogether... I died. Or so I thought until I found myself on my bed, waking up from a bad dream, sweat beads on my forehead and neck.
I wondered of all the ways I could die if I don’t die because of my disease, since that night. Drowning did not feel like the worst option after experiencing it once even though it was just a morbid dream.
I don’t know what happens to the people around you when you are dying. Some people just give up on you, like you are already dead to them and some try to make you feel like the king of their world. Which for me is not okay because being in the spotlight of your entire world is not what you would want before you die. Then again you don’t want to be ignored by someone you care for or love. Sometimes I feel so lonely and depressed, the worst kind of depression which makes you think that no one around you can ever love or understand you. It’s a harrowing state of being alive when all you see is sadness and struggle. It is like looking at the world wearing dark sunglasses, which hides every bit of goodness alive in this world from you. All I know is the pain, and the pain is the only thing that knows me. The rest all fades away in comparison.
The other day I was walking down the autumn leaf filled pathway looking at people, mostly. An eighty year old grandmother walking down the pavement, perfectly well and healthy, her grandson or perhaps great grandson clutching her hand with one of his hands, waving and jumping to reach for a balloon disappearing along the golden horizon. A boy trying to put all the things inside his bags to cycle home but interrupted by his girlfriend’s plea to stay back a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes. Some of us don’t even get that.
Imagine the horror when your mother finds you relapsing on your birthday, inside the washroom, a few inches away from the land of death. She carries you to the hospital, not letting go of you for a second, sending you into the ICU, and waiting outside to hear the good news, though a part of her heart knows that it can be bad news as well.
Well I lived. After a lot of integral medications, psychoanalysis, side effects, I survived till I degenerate again. I imagine a troop of virus or bacteria invading my somatic cells, while I slowly disintegrate to nothingness. It is a very vivid image, gory at first, but then calm. Cool. Cold. The repercussion of it horrible. Scary.
Father is dragging me to watch this new movie. Watching movies is one of my favorite way for time to elapse. But right now, I am not even bothered to go. I am too hollow to enjoy life anymore. My heart is too heavy to find joy anymore. But I am gonna go anyway. Guess I can pretend to be happy to make the people around me think I am actually more than just a ailing piece of encumbrance.
I don’t know if I will ever write to you again. You probably don’t even want me to write to you. Sorry I wasted your time by making you my one-way therapist. But you don’t know how much I appreciate you reading this. So thank you.
Love Always,
-A
No comments:
Post a Comment