So.. two weeks ago I tried to fix myself, in a permanent manner. I went to a lake where I was happy, back in 96, drank for the first time in 5.5 years, downed a bottle of sleeping pills, stumbled into the lake, then passed out on the shore. They found me the following afternoon, apparently the sun rose shortly after I went to sleep. Between that and shivering, I survived. They kept me in the hospital for a week running saline through me, because I had developed rabdomylosis. My muscles were shivering so hard that they started to eat themselves for energy.
The impetus for this came on suddenly. I had spent 30 years hanging on, for my parents mostly. It has not gone well. I've had adventures, and loved some wonderful women. But they are gone now, and I can't bear it. One is dead, the others married. The greatest and most recent encounter happened on Facebook. My first girlfriend friended me back 7 years ago. When I met her, I had never known love.. I had never kissed a girl or knew how to talk to them. That was what attracted her, to some degree. She called me to threaten my whole existence, because I let slip a joke she didn't like (I was 15). She was the meanest bitch in the neighbouring town, and I, suicidal even then, simply couldn't be intimidated. Hard to threaten somebody who has no friends, is shaken with PTSD already, and simply doesn't care if he lives or dies. The next day, she called me back, and I asked how she was doing. She told me. Told me everything about herself, and kept calling. She became my first girlfriend, even though neither of us knew it would happen. Sweet April, the maiden of tears.
She was beautiful, and brilliant, and so kind beneath her hatred for mankind.. A hatred I shared. Eventually, she offered herself to me, but I was afraid she just wanted my virginity, and that she would laugh at me. So I turned her away. She got mad, hung up, and didn't speak to me for a week. During that time I had my first psychotic episode, saw the glistering core of reality, and held the universe in my hands.
She called back eventually, and we even saw each other eventually (I had no car, never even went on a date with her), and... I still turned her away.. Until she gave up, and left.
When we spoke again, 27 years later, she told me that she never, ever stopped thinking of me. That she always wanted me back, and cried for decades because she couldn't find me. And it's all my fault.
She is now very happily married, with 4 children. And she said that she still loves me, and misses me, and wishes that we had been married back then. And there was a time that we could have been, in 96 shortly after my lover left me. The only woman I ever made love to, out of 12. They were wonderful friends once, before April's jealousy drove them apart. The rest I simply used, or was used by.
So I tried to end myself to escape the pain. Of knowing that I could have been with this wonderfully mad woman. Of knowing that I can -never- be with her now. After I survived, I called her and told her that I had to freeze my facebook account (it's a horrible place, really) and that I simply couldn't bear the pain of seeing her lovely face, of reading her sweet messages, of her bravery and her gentle words. It just hurts so much. And I'm not out of the woods.. I still wish to leave this world, so badly. I am doomed.
I threw away my life savings and job, insurance, everything, on this gold-digger named Hope Whitaker. I told this board of her before. She was my oldest childhood friend. And a sexual deviant, and so good at lying. I moved to be with her, threw everything I had at trying to build a life for us together, fed and clothed her, bought the washer/dryer, the whole thing. And when the money ran out, well.. turns out I wasn't so loved after all. I ended up running to Cookeville and moving in with my best friend from college. I was recovering well enough, but not a very good roommate. After this last episode, he told me that I'm basically on my last string. He can't live with a roommate who has psychotic fits, misses the bills, and doesn't even clean up after himself.
My parents are buying my medication now (I ran out after losing my insurance) and they are planning on helping me with my bankruptcy. They still love me, after all. And I have had numerous people tell me that I can't leave, that I give them hope, and make they feel safe in this world. I am important, for some reason.
So I go on living, and suffering, for them. I am still suicidal, but I'm trapped. I can't see any hope for the future, for what on earth would any woman (or man) want with a psychotic, apocalyptic, burnt out madman with multiple personalties screaming for death?
Sorry, like I said. I'm not going anywhere, and I hope this thread doesn't hurt anyone's hope for the future. I have avoided telling the whole horrid truth of the future I see, because.. well. It's too ugly to bear.
I hope you are doing well. Keep being brave.
The impetus for this came on suddenly. I had spent 30 years hanging on, for my parents mostly. It has not gone well. I've had adventures, and loved some wonderful women. But they are gone now, and I can't bear it. One is dead, the others married. The greatest and most recent encounter happened on Facebook. My first girlfriend friended me back 7 years ago. When I met her, I had never known love.. I had never kissed a girl or knew how to talk to them. That was what attracted her, to some degree. She called me to threaten my whole existence, because I let slip a joke she didn't like (I was 15). She was the meanest bitch in the neighbouring town, and I, suicidal even then, simply couldn't be intimidated. Hard to threaten somebody who has no friends, is shaken with PTSD already, and simply doesn't care if he lives or dies. The next day, she called me back, and I asked how she was doing. She told me. Told me everything about herself, and kept calling. She became my first girlfriend, even though neither of us knew it would happen. Sweet April, the maiden of tears.
She was beautiful, and brilliant, and so kind beneath her hatred for mankind.. A hatred I shared. Eventually, she offered herself to me, but I was afraid she just wanted my virginity, and that she would laugh at me. So I turned her away. She got mad, hung up, and didn't speak to me for a week. During that time I had my first psychotic episode, saw the glistering core of reality, and held the universe in my hands.
She called back eventually, and we even saw each other eventually (I had no car, never even went on a date with her), and... I still turned her away.. Until she gave up, and left.
When we spoke again, 27 years later, she told me that she never, ever stopped thinking of me. That she always wanted me back, and cried for decades because she couldn't find me. And it's all my fault.
She is now very happily married, with 4 children. And she said that she still loves me, and misses me, and wishes that we had been married back then. And there was a time that we could have been, in 96 shortly after my lover left me. The only woman I ever made love to, out of 12. They were wonderful friends once, before April's jealousy drove them apart. The rest I simply used, or was used by.
So I tried to end myself to escape the pain. Of knowing that I could have been with this wonderfully mad woman. Of knowing that I can -never- be with her now. After I survived, I called her and told her that I had to freeze my facebook account (it's a horrible place, really) and that I simply couldn't bear the pain of seeing her lovely face, of reading her sweet messages, of her bravery and her gentle words. It just hurts so much. And I'm not out of the woods.. I still wish to leave this world, so badly. I am doomed.
I threw away my life savings and job, insurance, everything, on this gold-digger named Hope Whitaker. I told this board of her before. She was my oldest childhood friend. And a sexual deviant, and so good at lying. I moved to be with her, threw everything I had at trying to build a life for us together, fed and clothed her, bought the washer/dryer, the whole thing. And when the money ran out, well.. turns out I wasn't so loved after all. I ended up running to Cookeville and moving in with my best friend from college. I was recovering well enough, but not a very good roommate. After this last episode, he told me that I'm basically on my last string. He can't live with a roommate who has psychotic fits, misses the bills, and doesn't even clean up after himself.
My parents are buying my medication now (I ran out after losing my insurance) and they are planning on helping me with my bankruptcy. They still love me, after all. And I have had numerous people tell me that I can't leave, that I give them hope, and make they feel safe in this world. I am important, for some reason.
So I go on living, and suffering, for them. I am still suicidal, but I'm trapped. I can't see any hope for the future, for what on earth would any woman (or man) want with a psychotic, apocalyptic, burnt out madman with multiple personalties screaming for death?
Sorry, like I said. I'm not going anywhere, and I hope this thread doesn't hurt anyone's hope for the future. I have avoided telling the whole horrid truth of the future I see, because.. well. It's too ugly to bear.
I hope you are doing well. Keep being brave.
