Looking Back

I’m looking at the stars;

They are so far away and their light takes so long to reach us.

Really, all we ever see of the stars, is their old photographs.

Is it wrong that I want to be left alone?

My ‘disorder’ has been peaking in the wrong direction for about a week now. I thought it would just ‘go away’, but this time it wants to keep following me around like a lost puppy. I’ve fought my entire life with thoughts of suicide and letting go of homicidal tendencies, and so far I’ve won that battle, but fear of losing that control has been weighing on my mind more frequently. I try to make myself go out and be around people, but the slightest little thing has me wanting to put my hands around their throats and choke the life out of them.

I stopped writing some time ago out of fear of what others thought about me, but in doing that, I think I lost a part of me. I want that back. I don’t know if I’m any good at writing, but it did give me peace. Writing over the years has giving me a chance to release the demons that are holding me back at being somebody; at least that’s what I’ve been told.  But dammit it’s hard to let them go when they are friendlier and more inviting to me than most people.

My dreams are of killing and being forced to do horrible, heinous crimes, and then I wake up with a smile on my face. Is it because I enjoy the crime, or it is that I’m killing a part of me that no longer needs to be there? Dreams linger throughout the day as if that was reality, and here I am in a dream doing nothing with my life.

I’m going to try and avoid doing anything really stupid, but change needs to come soon. I need to cut ‘things’. I need to shift my thoughts. A psychologist once told me to deal with my fears by exposing myself to that fear until it no longer caused me fear, and that I could do the same thing with my thoughts—expose myself to them on purpose until they no longer bother me.

Secret Storm

I’m drowning, will you save me? But what if I don’t want to be saved? Will you still try to save me? Today I feel like death, but a week, two weeks from now, I may not feel this way. That is the problem with this ‘disease’. It makes the mind believe things that I wouldn’t normally believe.

Please forgive me, I know not what I do. There is just too much pain I’m going through. Every word I say may be true, so please forgive while I try to silence a voice or two.

I feel like I can’t breathe again. This new medicine I’m on has my mind twisted. It’s been 2 weeks now and I should be feeling better according those who prescribed the pills, but they forget there are the few like me that experience the opposite effects and turn suicidal and homicidal in the first few weeks. If I can convince myself to stay on the medicine for more than a month or two things should start to smooth out as my body adjust to the medicine. Then I fear it will be just like in the past, I will stop taking the medicine and will have to go through all the withdraw emotions. At my age, I don’t think I can do that again.

I don’t know why, but when I’m medicated I’m reminded of every little painful moment from my past. Memories flood my mind and stomp around stirring up so much dust, I feel like I just can’t breathe. Right now, I’m staring face to face with extreme depression, fatigue, suicidal thoughts, impulsivity, risky behavior, and complete feelings of emptiness. Pain lances throughout my body. It hurt before, but never this bad. Tears spring to my eyes for no reason at all. I don’t want to be a part of this world.

I glanced around. The woods were mostly silent, with a few birds chattering in the distance. I inhaled the clean, pine tree air and relished in the calmness of the moment. Hunting season was long over and it was too chilly for camping. I doubted anyone would stumble upon the clearing, or hear her screams for mercy.

She flinched away from my words and touch. Clenching her eyelids tighter together, the heathen’s sobs became more audible and distraught. Her body began shaking uncontrollably, most likely due to a mixture of shock and terror.

“Hush, I’m helping you.” I tried to explain. 

“I don’t want to kill you. I have to kill you. This is the task that the voices have assigned to me. I dare not refuse what they have to say.”

This will make tomorrow a clearer day to see.