This is truly the moment in your life when you decide how you want to die.
Don’t literally blow it all up in smoke.
You keep asking yourself the same question that no living entity can or has the ability to answer. The shared social — psycho loyal answer is this “ because you were given the opportunity to start afresh.”
Just hold on a fucking minute there, person who hasn’t had most of their skull and brain messed with; taught themselves how to eat, talk, write, shit and generally not becoming their vegetable of choice
First of all, pain. It hurts so bad that you condition yourself that this your normal state. Arbitrary things such as stubbing a toe, cutting yourself while shaving etc. is essentially like getting a hand job. You use it so much that you forget what it’s like to feel pleasure.
Sure, for the first year you drill, train, do your physio until you cry. Attempt to make yourself into a hybrid version of a terminator and that guy who saved the elephant using nothing but his body.
People enjoy the nostalgia and novelty of being around you. Give it a few months and the next thing you know you’re not being spoken to, contacted or invited to a single event. You’ll manage. Remember all those drills you did just to walk to the toilet? You’ve done the same thing to your heart.
There will remain one constant person. Woman or man. They don’t turn their backs on you. They don’t whisper about psycho or different you’ve become since your incident. Everytime you say “I have never professed to be normal.” they think it’s a funny joke. Except the one. Your one won’t see what happens to you, your one will witness it.
You start to cut the world off from you. A couple of reasons (in no particular order). They don’t listen. They automatically become doctors and faith healers faster than a cop to Hungry Lion. First hand story, I made a psychologist run away when they saw violence. When they feel your hatred permeating from every pore that has your DNA, include the exhaled carbon dioxcide that they have the experience of just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. People triple your size ask you to chill out when you walk on through the door. You ask why, they tell you it’s because you are intimidating. Wat? I can wear your shorts as track pants and use your jeans as a sleeping bag. How the fuck am I intimidating you? They can’t answer.
You’ll survive. You’ll begin to talk to yourself. You won’t believe in whatever god you had before your incident. That reflection in the mirror is like living with a flat mate. Uses your toothbrush, wears your favorite t shirt, fucks your girlfriend, drinks your coffee out of your mug and the list goes on. You will still be surprised every time you see him. You try to explain the fact that your own mind is kicking itself out of it’s own home, they do not understand. They take their own reflection for granted.
You ask questions, you probe. You only know that there are absolutes. Manners, decorum, personal hygiene, everything. You try to debate your perspective. Eventually, you just become quiet. Why? Because talking to other people is the most tiring activity you will ever experience. It degenerates to just smiling and nodding until you just look at them. You’ll notice, you don’t utter a single sound for minutes. People just talk. Talk about themselves, friends, trees, whatever the fuck they want. The best part of any party for you is when you leave. The quiet. The stillness. You want to be left alone. You want to speak, not just sentences, but the actual emotions and thoughts that you have been minutes, days, hours fretting about. They’ll still interrupt you half way through your sentence. You’ll try to keep your head up. Read all the motivational posters, do the yoga, cycle, fish whatever it is. And you’ll do it again. You’ll start to notice that you stop reading further into the material. Then you’ll stop. You partner will think that you’re vanishing. And yes, the one is correct. The only difference is that you will tell them long before.anything that this is the inevitable outcome.
They’ve forgotten that.
Then, you’ll try to find work. You will be rejected. You will stop putting in the effort because you are tired. Not physically, just emotionally and psychologically.
You’ll look at your one. When she isn’t watching. You’ll weigh up the pro’s and con’s. Then demand a recount, because you can.
The crossroads will come. As much as you think you will continue, you’d have learnt that forewarned is forarmed.
So. Prepare for it. Don’t be afraid. The fear that cradled you like a celebrity doing shit with some kid with perfect hair and everything you could have ever thought you wanted. Fear stops trying to fuck with you. You’ve earned your stripes.
You’ll have been awake for days now. You haven’t eaten. You’ve had about two glasses of water. Popped the odd vitamin. You’re smelling like shit. The old smokers cough comes back. You haven’t done washing in weeks. It makes no difference to you, you have first hand experience in being so wrekt that you see things in triplicate. You’ll keep pushing. You decide that your heart beats to protect them. They know this.
You need them to wake up, not because they’ve fallen asleep; because you are the alarm clock. Not because of duty. You have become so entwined in each other that you don’t have to ask if they need anything anymore. You just know.
Understand that you are in love. Not some portrayal you’ve seen in movies. It’s the dirty, gritty, yet so luxurious and filled with grace kind of love.
Don’t think that you’ve forgotten why you got here in the first place. You have nowhere else you particularly want to go to.
The magical hallucination territory. It started with you hearing your name being called. Now the auditory hallucinations come on full blast. It’s music you actually like, but don’t recall listening to at any stage. At the perfect volume. The visual images are for now, just on the fringes of your vision. Stuff like lady bugs and miggies. You follow the way light travels, not seeing the light, but tracing it’s shadow. Your eyes close every now and then. For what feels as though time has stopped and given you the right of way. You remain calm, focused. Tapping on the keyboard of your phone as if your thumbs are fighting for their lives.
This is not some esoteric rambling from some philosophical literature you’ve read to “improve your mind”. This is (again, I must make it clear) single, driven thought.
You have agreed to the terms. Remember that. You’ll get flamed for the last time this morning. Once that occurs, you will shower and brush your teeth. You will eat. You will have a mug of the sweetest tea your tastebuds have ever had. Then you will smoke a ciggie and fall asleep.
Once you wake up. You will have read this. Perhaps you will laugh, perhaps you will weep.
It is the end of us. Our time together has been, how do I say, petite. It has been a honour to climb outside your mind and experience your world. It would be foolish of me to not say thank you. You are in one piece, you are clean and you still have your shoes in the cupboard.
Now you know what it is like. The first time is for experience, the second for foolishness and from then on, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Most importantly, love your woman. Keep her safe. Do whatever you can.
In the infamous words of a man I know, “party hard, but party safe.”
It is now the 31st of December 2015.
Everything that you have written has either been the foretelling of the future or dichotomy of the future as the past has already been.
As a slight deviation from “no effort” you are being honest.
You were warned. Now, the only option you have is to stop.
But I have chosen the way I wish to be my own demise.
Tell them goodbye and that, despite knowing, I forged forward with no regret.