"one last shot wouldn't hurt", I said to myself before drinking all the liquor I had left, perhaps getting intoxicated will make me more of a normal man and my shaking hands didn't bother me as much as the buzzing sound that came from the other room, a sound I never got rid of despite the headache it gave me, a sound I never knew whether it was real or not. without forgetting to mention The weather that is getting ugly, so cold that I'm falling apart.
I sat down and stared at the picture hanging on my wall, it was my mother's. My mother was a firm believer in God, she believed in him more than she believed in herself, she had faith in others more than the faith she had in herself, and it was sad seeing her lose everyone she had hope in, her life was an immense disappointment, but not as disappointing as me; her son, a godless heathen.
"God is with you", she used to say but was he with me when I was helpless? or did he decide to step in when I lost? When someone we love dies, we lose them to God, life's nothing but a battlefield and each day we're closer to the final loss; our own death.
Perhaps I'm the man who tried to take away his own life because of his delusion but I don't believe in fate, so much that I decided to give up and turn my face to the wall.
perhaps such an act is considered an act of weakness but I consider it a strength, I take a step closer to death while everyone fears it.
I picked up a few pills I had laying around and swallowed them with the help of the last drops of the alcohol I had, "this could be the last time!", i said with excitement.
I layed on the couch, the buzzing started getting louder, it was unbearable but I didn't mind because hours from now I will be dead.
The headache started kicking in then the nausea, those two feelings that I already felt before, several times except that this time it feels more real, I decided to stand up to take a look at the city from my window but I couldn't and I finally lost consciousness.
I woke up after five hours, my greatest fear, I heard people around me which isn't surprising anymore, some may consider it as luck But I think it's such a shame I can't do anything right. Now I have to be surrounded by professionals telling me that I am under their mercy, I can't try to run away I'm so weak and there's no chance I can get out of here.
I'm a writer in nature, I can't let the opportunity of writing something poetic slip out of my hands, but this is not the time and I'd rather die in peace than make a poem out of my misery.
I slept and woke up again,the teal walls and the sound of the doctors walking and running around me made me nauseous, in fact more nauseous than the drugs I took, what happened to me?how did a joyful person like me turn to such an awful human being?these questions were filling my head until a thought of my father decided to invade my mind again, he made everyone miserable because of his decisions and most importantly his disgusting acts. Was he the reason my life took an other turn? Or am I just like him? An incompetent prick.
"We will take you to an other room", said the doctor interrupting my train of thoughts, "great", I replied with a monotone voice and a crooked smile, this room had a television so I can fill up my brain with politics and sports, I never liked politics even though I enjoyed reading about how our world works.
I believe that corruption originated from the skies, God is the government and the government is God, here the government tries to enforce religion on the citizens because it is the key to their minds "vote for us, vote for God".
Perhaps I'm just an insane person who lost his mind due to his traumatic past but I can confirm everyone who claims to be sane is as crazy as I am, everyone has some sort of complex ruining their life.
I woke up again and it's not disappointing anymore, the nurse came in with some food, I guess I can eat this time."today feels different, when do I leave this place?" I asked the psychiatrist, "not unil you fully recover", he responded.
Days went by, my thoughts invaded my brain that I felt like they were leaking from my fragile skull and the buzzing sound didn't leave me, it was as if it was part of me.
The sound of people running around me reminded me of my childhood, I spent most of it in hospitals as I grew up ill, physically and mentally ill, which made my parents pay a lot of money to repair the damage God has sent me with. Poor people don't get to live, they either steal or die, the rich steal too but they pretend it's more ethical in order to keep a social order.
I normally get called wise while I'm nothing but pure insanity, people either like different opinions or they despise them, they either see them as a fresh concept or a threatening one.
Today started with my therapist's appointment, he never fails to amaze me with his questions that I've already heard. "If you can put it into words,how can you describe yourself as a person?",he asked, "I'm not a person, I view myself as a passing memory in the minds of the people I've known, I'm just a system of complicated beliefs and intrusive thoughts, thoughts that tell me to jump, to kill and to commit horrible crimes that don't seem too horrible when you think about it". " what makes you believe that they're not horrible?", he asked again, "well, I believe that no one is entirely pure, we all sin and those crimes are only horrible because humans think so, it's always linked to their feelings and emotions" I answered.