Trouble – Part 2

I am sinking. My addictions are knocking at my door every day – every night – like zombies who are trying to eat my brain. And I feel they are winning.

Can’t you see my walls are crumbling? I’m thinking of jumping. I am so tired of life….

Last night I planned it. I had it all figured out. I was planning on driving 2,000 miles to the island, put on my wedding dress, take a great deal of sleeping pills and becoming Ophelia and walk into the frozen lake and end things the way my life began. Water.

My first memory is of water – why shouldn’t the last? Though I am terrified of drowning, if I took enough pills, and the water was cold enough, would I even feel a thing? And being there, the closet place that was ever home to me, the place where I was married and where I buried my husband. Wouldn’t it make sense?

“I miss you, I guess that I should.” Will I ever stop missing you? That is what racks my brain whenever I am awake – when the sleeping pills stop working and I wake up every day at 4:30 AM. Whether it is a work day or a weekend. All I think of first is you, and that you are no longer here. 13 years later. I am so exhausted by this.

I am exhausted by life.

I simply don’t understand the point of being here. I have no family. I have a lover, a partner, but he is miles away and does not understand my disease the way my late husband did. He, in some ways, not all, wants me to be perfect as my father did. He does not say this. But if I deviate from the norm, I hear complaints.

I cannot handle this. I feel so old, even though I am not. I am done. I do not have the energy to find beauty in life anymore unless I consider running away to another country or killing myself – ending it all. I am in pain. Not physical, as a cancer patient might face, but mentally. And I am so tired of battling the demons in my head while trying to act “normal”.

And in the place I live in, no one cares. Not my shrink. Not anyone in the medical profession who should  care, who should be concerned.

And if I died, those that matter to me would get benefits of my death. They would be better off financially. So, would it be better for them? Because I do not understand my value to them alive. All this country cares about is money.

© Sorrow & Kindness


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