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to sleep to dream no more

Feel very very very bleh.

i wonder how much of it i can blame on the pills i took and how much on annoying housemates.

i needed to sleep. mostly i needed not to feel pain anymore and to stop the noise in my head
and the most practical answer seemed sleep.
well, it got to a point where i was feeling worse than ever and it was either knock myself out for a limited time or make a stab at forever.

i am still not thinking entirely clearly brain is very fuzzed this all might be gibberish.

the world is blurry and streetlamps leave long trails. the light is slow here. heavy and slow just like my brain.
i am living the lifespans of glaciers, my time is much slower than the time of human years.

i have a background level of suicidal ideation pretty much all the time.
most of the time it is low. about 10-20% say.
in times of stress it goes up to approx 30%.

and sometimes, just occasionally, it shoots up into the stratosphere where it is so loud my head doesnt hold anything else, and i am on borrowed time.
thursday night it shot to 95%. that is the ultimate border. at that level i will be actively planning my demise, as well as actively looking for alternatives (i am a paradox) but anything much above that, or that level for any length of time and i will begin to breakdown as surely as enzymes in high fever.
crap and shit, i thought. it will pass it will get better.
friend was there, friend talked, friend helped.
self-destruct level fell to about 80%,
an improvement.

i walked home feeling a weird sortof peace that comes from being really far apart from yourself and floaty. i was fairly confident in my ability to work things through in my head because this was the first time i felt suicidal and loved at the same time.
i knew i had people who cared about me, and people i cared about, who hopefully in thier turn also knew they were loved.

time slowed down and fell about me like rain. the stars burned and i felt like almost one of them, a distant sharp bright thing, and i could feel my guide and my dad and every step i took was like a step in a dream.
one of those moments that happens to me in joy or in sadness when i am struck by the heartbreaking beauty of the world and just close my eyes and drink in the song of every blade of grass, every cloud, every star until i lose my sense of borders, because this moment is the first, last, only moment, quite literally all there is.

sat in the garden with my thoughts and my blades because it was quiet and i was undisturbed and ran through my head dispassionately the reasons for living and dying.
and because i was feeling a lot better, i was able to process a lot of my feelings, and when these got unbearable, i resolved to die.

it was the middle of the night and i didnt think there would be anyone, but my housemate walked into the garden and saw me (he had been working late) and he said, what are you doing and because i couldnt say *well planning my death as it happens*

i said *i am looking at stars*
and he said *there are no stars* and i said *i can see at least one. there is definately one*

and he decided that stargazing in a garden was a lot more pleasant than drinking foul coffee and staring at the telly which meant i couldnt get rid of him for the next three hours.
*aren't you feeling sleepy james?*
*no man, its gorgeous out here, i am all right* and so on.

eventually, he left. it was something like 3 am, but the garden still called to me and i didn't want to move. i wanted to curl up on the grass and sleep and sleep and sleep, dissolve myself into a simpler existence one with less ties and chains and rules. be grass, a lavander bush, the roots of a tree.

i sat there until i fell asleep, and woke when dawn broke and like a vampire sought my bed. well, actually i decided that since i obviously wasn't going to do myself in i might as well do some work considering i have a deadline on monday. worked like a person in a dream but at least it meant i got something accomplished.

slept for an hour, worked until afternoon, feeling myself going downhill very rapidly and trying to bury that in academia. by 5 pm it became startlingly clear that this strategy was a dismal failure.

self-destruct level had shot up to 95% again and was rising and it felt worse than before.

i needed to sleep.
well i wanted to die, but i thought if i could knock myself out i could reboot my brain and things might be better when i woke up.

and because i wasnt entirely self-annhilatory i took the pills i knew were least likely to kill me, and because they didnt seem to kick in i took all the ones i had. antihistamines and beta-blockers. that slow things down. that make me drowsy. that in right doses can stop the breathing and the heart.

and sleep was a hurtling down like falling from a high place into the arms of the sea.

i remember very little, except snatches of dreams and noises and lights and exploding stars in my brain.
in fact my brain had turned into congealed soup and i couldnt surface which suited me just fine.
i slept, i passed out, i cant really tell the difference.

except that i was gone and this had been what i was trying to achieve.

in the darkness, it was soothing.
and i was very still and not worried.
i occasionally wondered whether i would ever surface again, but this seemed largely incosequential.

sinking down down down down.
drifting. not always dark. sometimes i was in a pool of sunlight but i was so heavy, so drowsy i couldnt move.
except i didnt want to move, so i wasn't scared.
i had reverted back to a womblike idyll.

except everything comes to an end...
and the world comes back. you come back to the world. at the end, one way or another you always get pulled back into existing.

head hurts.
body hurts.
head doesnt work.

time moved slowly where i was but the world when it stole in with sound and cracks of light told me it was approximately 24 hours later.

woke up for a bit, an hour maybe, and then more or less passed out again. surfaced again, three hours after that, except my head was inside a dull bell and i couldnt get things to fit or to work.
my thoughts were leaden and heavy and slow, and i had trouble distinguishing between what i dreamt and what was real.

fell asleep.
woke up, two hours later to pounding and screaming.
the sound of my own heart flailing madly.

the crashing of worlds, walls falling down, me being hunted, no safe place to go where i couldnt tell what was real what was dreamt.
the reality was called: greeks having a party.
and it was awful.
the noise. i couldnt shut out the noise coming like knives and spears and clawed hands through my door and my pillow and my ears and there was nowhere to hide, and no choice but to leave, go out.

by then, spurred by adrenaline perhaps, i could walk, and though each step i took was underwater, the night air revived me.
midnight, and too cold in the garden, so went to uni instead as it is a stone's throw from the house.

passed out on the floor of the staffroom.
except the world always comes back.

and it says. wake up. do some work.

brain hurts.
body hurts.
brain not there.
body is still moving through its own universe of treacle pudding

body angry with me.
or tired and sad.
brain only semi-here.

go away world, i am tired. shut up, i have done enough, leave me be. leave me be.


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Aug. 8th, 2009 04:25 pm (UTC)
i know what you mean, Pretty much how i feel. ugh.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )


deep sky, firefly

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