display | more...

I'm convinced now that I'm not going to last much longer. Relax, friendly editors, this isn't a suicide note or a threat or anything of the sort. I've felt suicidal now for nearly three months, and despite several attempts, I'm still here and it's clear that the universe isn't letting me out.

This week, on Tuesday, I was meant to cash a meager check, buy a bus ticket, pack a suitcase, and ride a bus to Colorado to move in with some friends. When my efforts to cash that check didn't work out (it's still in my wallet, uncashed), apparently I came home, and my mind "checked out."

I have no recollection of Tuesday or Wednesday at all (apart from the check thing Tuesday). My ex-wife tells me I was completely gone, unable to speak, read, or write, unable or unwilling to communicate in a meaningful way, to cook, groom myself, or even eat (apparently when she handed me a fried chicken TV dinner I tried to eat the bones. Apparently very late Wednesday night (after she'd gone to bed) I managed to prepare an alcoholic drink for myself; upon drinking it I of course got drunk, and my mind seemed to return to my control gradually.

I don't know what's wrong now. I have frequently experienced memory loss over the last few months, but everyone I describe it to is dismissive of this, suggesting it's no big deal. Despite the fact that whole days go missing in my memory, people don't seem to think it's a problem. This is the first time my mind has "gone on vacation" like this when someone else was around to see it, though, and it suggests something may be going very badly inside. Oh, it's worth mentioning my hair looks really stupid now since I got hold of scissors while I was "out of it," shaved part of my right arm, and carved up the left arm a decent amount with a steak knife.

Y'know the saddest part, though? I don't even care anymore. Wednesday afternoon is when I was supposed to turn up in Colorado at a bus station. I had e-mailed several people (all supposedly friends) letting them know I was coming. I called Teresa and left her a voicemail to thank her for her friendship and to let her know I was leaving the state.

Not one phone call. Not one voicemail. Not one e-mail. These people who profess to care about me ... just don't. Erica even seemed to approve when I told her Monday night that I was going; she said "good, let me know when you get there!" I mailed her Tuesday morning telling her I'd let her know Wednesday when I got in safely. Nothing from her either. The very people supposedly letting me move into their home (and picking me up from the bus station) are mysteriously silent and absent.

It's hard not to sound just paranoid when I say this, but even my "closest friends" seem to be either doing everything in their power to hurt me even more than I already have been, or they're doing nothing at all, knowing that's the worst possible thing they could do to me. My parents have done the same thing.

What is so hard about making one god damned phone call? I can understand that people are busy and have lives, but, um, all of them? Erica, Teresa, my parents, my roommates to be, etc., are all too busy to place a phone call like "hey, why aren't you in Colorado yet?", or even one to my ex-wife -- "uh, where is he?"

I'm so desperate to have someone to talk to now that I actually talked to a collector for nearly half an hour about everything going on. She just wanted money from me. She even said "you know, you don't really sound like you need to be in a hospital." But at least she fucking talked to me.

Let this be a lesson to all of you out there who lament being lonely and friendless — don't waste your time giving. Friendship is a ripoff. They're around when you're flying high, when you have a truck to lend to help move, extra cash to lend when they can't make rent, or a strong shoulder to cry on when their shit hits the fan. They're completely absent, missing, AWOL, when it comes to your turn for help.

I am now truly stuck. The cars are repossessed. Erica didn't send enough money to get me to Colorado (ironic, since she owes me over $1,500, and sent me "just enough for a one-way airline ticket" which turned out not to be nearly enough). My friends have promised at least three times since early July that they're coming out here to "rescue" me. I think for the last four weeks it has been "this weekend we'll see you!" ... in a row. Nobody showed up. My parents came all the way out here late in July but got pissed at me before even getting around to coming from their motel room here to visit me. They turned around and went home.

I guess I'm not worth anything to them now that I'm not a trophy boy anymore. They can't exactly brag about me anymore — I already know they lie (my father tells his coworkers and employer that I have a master's degree, while I really have maybe 60 credit hours and no degree at all). I know my friends don't actually want me around — I have nothing left to offer (financially or otherwise) and am essentially dead weight.

My ex-wife, who professes a desire to help me, is remarkably impotent in doing so. She hasn't called anybody, talked to anybody, or really done anything to find out why people are ignoring me. She keeps saying "you're going to the mental hospital tomorrow whether you like it or not." She's been saying that since Thursday. Here I am. No hospital. I think she likes me just the way I am -- powerless, subservient, and mildly entertaining when she slips me her opiate pain killers (hydrocodone, a vicodin generic). I must admit the drugs are fun — while they last. The high/buzz doesn't last nearly long enough, though.

I guess I understand why people have bailed on me and are distancing themselves. I didn't do that to them when they needed somebody, but I guess there's just a double standard at work. Again.

I just wish it didn't hurt so damned much.

Fortunately, with the stunts my mind is pulling these days, with increasing severity and regularity, it looks like I won't be around (in a lucid state of mind, anyway) for long to feel the pain. I wonder if I can influence the world my mind will ultimately move into... that might be fun.