Thank you from the Island.

Hey all.

*Before I start, forgive me for this incoherent nonsense below. I re read it and it’s not always in context. But it poured out from my heart and I’m going to leave it as it is. Raw. I hope you can understand it. It meant a lot to me.*

I guess I’m in a strange place and feel a need to confess. I struggle with my inner darkness every single day. Somedays are much easier than others, but everyday without fail… The struggle is always there. It’s a constant reminder that life is always on a knifes edge.

I want to talk about suicide, and why it will always be a part of my inner thoughts. I don’t know why, but I feel I have to. It’s all cathartic anyway right?

All my life I’ve felt isolated and alone. It is what it is, and I’ve always had hope that something or someone would help brighten my darkest skies and calm the waters in my ocean. I’ve been a prisoner of sorts on a desert island, lost in the middle of that ocean. That island is constructed from a bunch of circumstances like physical and emotional abuse, drug and alcohol problems and general self esteem issues. My sister and I are living proof that parents can really fuck up their kids, especially at a young age.

So there’s a girl whom has been all those things and more for so many years. I love her. And I always will. I need her in more ways than I can ever admit (even to her, and I tell her everything) I don’t ever believe it will ever be more than it is. But for the opportunity just to hold her close, I would do anything. But I digress. Just having someone like her in my life… Was magic. Every moment we spent was like floating in the clouds. She really means the whole world to me.

It’s both a blessing and a curse.

The problem I have is that I don’t feel it in such an honest form. Never ever really, which is both sad and also special in a way. But because I feel this way, other people cannot compare and also because of my way of feeling emotions (full blast, enveloping, obsessive) I always over react and am pushy. And I was going thru a particular tough time, and I couldn’t handle things. So I decided that I couldn’t handle feeling this way every moment of everyday of the rest of my life. I added it up, and knew that I had… lost her. ‘cos I was never gonna escape my own desert island. It was all I could foresee… I was gonna die there, totally alone. The only choice I had, the only thing I could control was when, and how, and where it was going to happen. So I wrote my goodbyes and an especially long, heartfelt letter to my sister and the last thing I did was write a long letter to “her”. Then I ground up about 50 pills and drank it down with a bottle of vodka. I went to sleep knowing I wasn’t going to wake up, and feeling a little relieved that it was going to be over. Saddened to leave those I love, but unable to stay around just for them.

But to my surprise, my eyes opened the next day and I was surrounded by the contents of my stomach and a unbridled sense of shame.

I was such a failure. I couldn’t even kill myself the way I wanted to. I had power over *nothing*.

I really wanted die. You need to understand that… I was happy to leave. I was content to know I was capable of feeling something like I do for “her” and that it was finally over. I would fade away into the night, no fanfare, no nothing. Remembered by few. It’s how I wanted it. I didn’t want everyone to see the real me. To see how alone I’ve always felt. I wanted them to remember me for the fun we had. I guess It’s part of why I feel so alone. Because I don’t see or feel things like other people do.

I could hide the emptiness in my youth with copious amounts of alcohol and company. But as I grew older, I found it harder and harder to hide behind sex, drugs and alcohol. No matter how much fun I was, how happy I made other people or how many times they told me they loved me… I never felt the same. And sometimes I tried really really hard to convince myself that I did. And I never could.

How was I supposed to live like that?

Her love made me feel something I don’t think I ever really knew. Like I belonged. Like I mattered. It was nice to feel that unconditional, uncompromising love. And not something based on obligation or family ties. So I was content to go. I’ve always hoped that good things could happen. But really I never believed that they would. If that makes sense.

So I tried to die. With some form of dignity. As I dwelled on my failed attempt, that’s when this feeling came over me like a warm blanket. I knew, somehow, that I had to stay alive. Somehow. I had to keep breathing. Even though there was no reason to hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. At least not up close like this…

So that’s what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and I managed to get away.

And now, here I am. I’m back. Always a hairs breath from that island, but never to return.

I’m so sad a lot of the time that I don’t have “her”. She makes me feel like I’m a real person, not a beast hiding behind impressions, humor and masks. I’m me and thats fine.

But I’m so grateful that she was with me on that island. And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise.

Who knows what the tide could bring?

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