73 Days

Day 2 - Internal Bleeding

I N T E R N A L  B L E E D I N G

DAY 2

Aspirin isn't such a tough pill, right? You can swallow loads of it, and not feel a bit different, right?

Wrong.

2.6 grams in the last 24 hours, and I'm bleeding out my nose. It's constant, and I'm wondering if it means there's a bigger problem. Ironically, it would make sense for me to be bleeding inside. I sure as hell am bleeding on the inside emotionally... I'm not too worried about it. Not at all, in fact. Reading about aspirin online has managed to sooth any ill thoughts that I have. I'm not directly trying to kill myself...but if it happens, it happens. I'm testing myself. Trying to see how many pills I can swallow without any ill effects. I've gotten up to 8, 325 milligram tablets...and the only thing I've noticed is naseua, a bit of vomiting, and blood pouring out my nose. Nothing serious. Nothing directly pointing to death.

You know, I called you last night. When you answered, you surprised the hell out of me. That beautiful silence right before your voice came through the line...it only rang twice, so I knew that silence meant that someone picked up. It was 12 in the morning, and you answered.

I cried. I cried a lot. I said sorry, sorry as many times as I could. You told me to stop, I said I was an idiot, and you told me to stop "bagging on myself". I asked if you still cared, I asked again and again. You do care. Why you didn't tell me that yesterday? Why you hid that from me yesterday, I don't know.

"What would you do if I died...?"

"I...don't honestly know. I'd be distraught."

Why is it so hard for me to realize people around me care? What the hell is wrong with me? It's like some strange form of apathy that I feel for myself, apathy for the emotions of others...but it's not quite apathy. I make myself believe that everybody dislikes me, that people wouldn't mind if I was dead...and I guess that's just your typical suicidal, hormonal, teenage mindset.  Maybe not just a mindset for teenagers though...

This is to my neighbor who killed himself. I didn't know you, but apparently, lots of people did. Apparently, lots of people loved you. Apparently, it was messy,  judging by the Aftermath vehicle that was parked outside your house for 12 hours. You didn't know me, but seeing that...seeing the scene of a suicide so close to my house, that changed me. It made me realize that this mindset I have, this surrounded-by-apathy mindset...it's not real. People care. My death would hurt a lot of fucking people. That's what I have to do...I have to escape from this twisted fantasy. I have to realize how important I am, to others, to myself...to God. I have to.

You promised me, that if something happens, I could call you like I did last night. I could call you, and reach out, and you catch me. You might not love me anymore, but I know you care enough to catch me. That's why I still love you.
 You laughed at our old jokes last night.

And for a little while, it was almost like I was better. It's always like that with you, you make me better. Then, I fuck it up, because I don't realize how much you care, and I want to wallow in depression, and I just screw things up...and you're gone. Even though you're one of the driving forces of my recovery, even though I love you almost more than anything, I was blind to how much pain I caused you.

I promise I'll get better.

I remember, last night, you told me something crazy.

"Nobody cares...Q doesn't care...E doesn't care..."

"Don't tell anybody I told you this...but about a half an hour ago, Q called me because he was extremely worried that you deleted your Facebook account...so don't say he doesn't care."

More proof of how I blind I am...to everyone elses emotions. I'm just wallowing in my pity, in my own cess pool of emotions...and it has to stop. I promised I would get better.

"I need time to work things out...that's what I need."

I'll give you time, and when I come back, I'm going to be a different person.

I'm going to be ME, not depression.