It starts with a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. A combination of panic, sorrow, and confusion twisting my insides into unyielding knots. And then its like walking down a familiar road.. because after that it is all familiar. My eyes are burning and I don't want to keep them open, my heart is slowing down like it just wants to quit, my blood is boiling in my veins setting my skin on fire. No matter how dark and cool the room there's nothing I can do to ease myself into sleep. I want it to come, I want to feel the sweet embrace of unconciousness, where nothing is real and nothing can hurt me.. that kind of sweet dreamless sleep I induced with a series of drugs each night before bed. That kind of dreamless sleep that I haven't had in months. The knots twist tighter and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, slipping over the curves of my cheeks despite my demands they stay put. Eventually the burning of the flesh turns to a dead cold and I sit up to draw the blankets around my shoulders, huddled up in the corner of my bed and staring through the cracks in the blinds even though I can't make out anything beyond them. And I try to think of things that should make me feel better. My storehouse of those thoughts seems eerily empty these days, and sometimes I can hear my own voice echo back to me that its not okay any more. There's a reason I'm running out of things to cheer myself up with.
I can fool anyone else, except for myself it seems. I can tell them I'm happy, and put on a smile and they believe its genuine. I can say that nothing is wrong when they ask and they'll not question me twice, I've ever been the strong one. I can lie through my teeth and not a single person would be any wiser, because I've wrapped myself in so many similar lies that I hardly know whats truth anymore. Those who I can't fool I push away.. for their own safety, I'll tell myself, so that my depression doesn't rub off on them and bring them down to this level with me. Misery loves company, but I've always hated being around people, why make my suffering any worse? I'll find ways to manipulate them into hating me, a sure bet they'll stay away... because I simply can't have anyone looking too close again.
But God it hurts, when I'm sitting here like this, and realizing that I've isolated myself so completely. I have no one to talk to save myself, and I won't tell one soul what really goes on... because telling would be trusting in them.. a trust that would inevitably be shattered in one manner or another.. and I'm so tired of picking the pieces back up. There's nothing for it but to bite back the screams, and fight the tears when they come, to steel my heart against disappointment and simply accept. The mirror facing the bed forces me to face myself. White face, dark circles under my blank eyes.. and I have to laugh.. though it brings no real expression to my features.. and I know, for sure, I've successfully committed suicide.