THE SUICIDE IN ME
I woke up the other day, and while laying on my side, in my awakening haze, I stared out the bedroom window. The sun was shining, and the sky was clear blue. A beautiful morning. Well, it would be for anyone else. Instead, all I could think about was jumping out the window, head first onto the concrete slabs below, and if I did do that, would it be enough to kill me, or would I just cause myself irreversible brain damage and become a vegetable? This is my thought process right now. My inability to get a job, save money, meet people, has caused me to question the value of my life, which at the moment I deem as worthless.
These thoughts plague me. Everyday tasks turn into a fight with my brain, to make sure I don’t do anything stupid. Take shaving for example – cutting the hair off my face with a sharp blade. As I stare at myself in mirror, all I can think about is taking that blade across my neck, and then it will all be over – relief will finally come. Also, driving. Each time I’m in my car I have the urge to drive my little Chevrolet straight into a wall. Even walking brings its risks, the thought of stepping out into oncoming traffic in the hope that it will all be over. Crossing the road has become a mental game of chicken for me. And finally there’s eating. Each time I go into the cutlery drawer, I see the big shiny knives and wonder how long it would take for me to bleed to death if I took the dreaded slice.
There is a saying – which I believe to be a myth – that men think about sex every 7 seconds. In my case, I think about suicide in this timescale. God, how I wish I thought about sex.