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Horror Digest

Rain when I die

The day I tried to end my life is the day where I’d reached a bit more of the bottom than I thought I’d already hit. They say when someone reaches that point and tries to top themselves it’s either after a lot of planning or a flash impulse ‘do it’ mentality. Mine was mostly the latter. As you can tell it didn’t work otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this.

The day had been ok, a bit sleepy but nothing out of the ordinary. Then in the afternoon I received a text from my soon to be former wife. In it she said she had finished the weekend activity and was coming up with something for me. Now previous to this I’d last heard from her back in May and also through the divorcey legal court paperwork that has been trickling through the post box since June. So it was quite the surprise. I knew she wouldn’t come into the house so clothed myself all the while wondering what it was she was coming up to give me. I then went outside to see the old familiar car with its distinctive license plate and her tapping out a text obviously saying that she was now ‘here’.

She saw me and got out and told me what had happened over the weekend. Me being me, stupidly, I went along with the pointless small chit chat, although I dumbstruck at what was happening. She then handed me a bag. In it, she said, was a memory stick of my stuff, pics, etc from the shared computer.

A little bit more chit chat and then she was gone. As I left I cursed myself inwardly, why didn’t you say something? Anything? Something. 
The times I’d done similar in my dreams, wanting to ask her, ‘Are we talking now?’ and, ‘you’ve left me so bereft, why?’ and various other questions. Why didn’t I say something? Deep down I know why. It was because I had very little time to even think of something, anything to say to her. The moment between text and arrival was 5 minutes, which gave me no time whatsoever. Still, I wish I’d said something. I did eventually but more of that later.

I got back to the house and opened up the bag. I saw the memory stick and a photo album.

’Oh,’ thinks me. ‘She must have printed up the photos, how kind.’

I opened it up and found that no, she hadn’t. She’d given me the wedding album. Our wedding album. Stripped of the photos she either wanted or deemed me not suitable to have. But the rest were there, us cutting the cake, signing the registrar. The lot.

I took to bed, wondering why she’d given it to me despite me telling her clearly that I didn’t want it before our parting from our house.

Confusion and hurt reigned. Until about an hour later, watching the rain fall and listening to some Alice in Chains I decided to do it. Everything else that usually stopped me didn’t matter at that point. It felt like it was all for nowt. So nuts to it, I thought. I’m going to do it. The thought of it and where I was going to do it kinda calmed me in an odd way but also, paradoxically, it exhilarated me too.

Off I went, taking some kitchen roll with me, my usual SI tool of choice and a photo of me and her cutting the wedding cake. I stomped up the hill, feeling my heart race, looking at the greenness of the long grass. I stood on top, heart beating fast, thinking how things had led me this way, how deep deep down I always knew it would end this way. I looked around, there were too many dog walkers so I moved off, walking towards the cemetery, annoyed the rain had stopped. At the cemetery I found what relatives I could, my nan etc, and said sorry. Sorry for being a mess of a man and sorry for what I felt like I was about to do.

More wandering as the rain began to fall, looking for places to go and hide, trying to work out what would happen if I got locked in the cemetery, trying not to trap myself in case after I did it and I freaked out and panicked. So after looking at some nature run around, fox, hares (Blimey, they’re big!), I walked towards an area I knew as kid, down a dark lane towards some woods and fields.

Looking back on it the funny thing is I wasn’t sure about walking down the dark lane as I thought I might get run over by a car. Odd eh?

So I wandered down until I found a field away from sight and climbed over into long grass and in my very inconspicuous Great War style coat sat down. I looked at the photo of us and then checked my mobile, missed calls and texts flashed at me. I then led down and nodded off glad to feel the rain fall on my face at last. I think I nodded off and then woke up and after again looking at the photo and leaving a post on Facebook, (Nothing too explicit but more something that alluded to my state of mind) I tried to cut. Thing is it was too dark so I had to use my phone to illuminate my wrist and then it was too tense so I had to relax it to lower the tendons and then the phone went out and blimey, it was awkward. Eventually I cut a bit but nothing damaging. Annoyed I got up and walked back to the hill  that I’d visited earlier, keen to feel wet and cold, walking through the long grass and through bushes and trees along the way. At the hill I stood there and tried again, taunting myself, annoyed that I couldn’t even get it right. I slashed away but not nearly hard enough, thinking it’d be easy to cut, a few cuts and scratches on my wrist at least now visible to me. I slumped to the grass and wondered why I couldn’t do it porperly. I then stumbled to the bottom and went home where I told my mum that I needed help.

After a cup of tea and a muffin, I hadn’t really eaten that day, I was taken up A and E. and whilst waiting my dad had called my auntie and uncle. They were there and at one point my uncle leaned over me and asked if I had pains in the head. I mean, blimey!

After that it was a case of seeing about 5 different med’ types. The crisis team came and went at one point because they didn’t have enough information but eventually returned to discharge me but follow up with a visit on the Tues and me making an appointment with the GP on Monday. I felt a little bit better after been listened to and treated nicely and calmly.

At then, well then I went home, the rain belting down. And me in a state of confusion. I really wanted to be admitted but knew the chances were slim unless I went there with an open wrist wound. It was the early hours and by the time I nodded off I woke up feeling… odd. Almost as if I wasn’t sure if I belonged and where to now?

It’s something I’m still in the middle of. The strongest return of those feelings from Sunday came yesterday whilst out running in the rain. A walk to the cemetery seemed to stall them though.

I texted my former regarding the album and a few other messages of things I wanted to get out, nothing nasty but I put my side down. Responses have been few. Now I suppose I wait until the last bit of the divorce comes through.

Now it’s the aftermath. Or is that recovery? I’m not sure yet.

down in a hole and I don't know if I can be saved

The river runs red and I think I'm dying

Sometimes...

"Sometimes it happens feelings die
Whole years are lost in the blink of an eye
We once had it all but event conspired
Sometimes
Now that it's over, it is through
It gets me everytime I think of you
Sometimes it happens, feelings die
Sometimes

I miss your warm skin, beside me at night
I miss your flesh, in the dawn light
Sometimes, sometimes
Sometimes, sometimes"

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The Boot

So where was I? Numbness, cogitation? Ah yes, back to that again.

It’s been a right old mixed bag of naffness recently tied up with ok-ness. I’ve managed to get some things done and have actually gotten out of the house to the gym, to the odd interview and to my activity that sometimes my former shows up to as well. On that point, she’ll be there this coming weekend. Not good and something I’m trying not to think about but hey ho. Recently this other activity has allowed me to open up to my friends there and get a bit boozy and teary with some of them too. Moments of closeness were had as on 2 occasions I opened up during a chat that was spiked with alcohol and a feeling of just letting go and not holding back as I told a few why I hadn’t been in lately.

I have also tried my hand at flirting and the such like. I know I’ve mentioned T before and I’m still seeing her but relationship wise I’m fine with casual. It has to be that way and she is ok with it. Hence it also gives me a chance to try my hand at chatting, flirting and sometimes dancing. Sometimes badly. It was fun though and although obviously out of practise, how do you proclaim you intentions without being so flippin’ obvious? it was good fun.

Monday wasn’t the best but I did manage to get some controlled dreaming from it. I pretty much controlled it from content to persons involved and had once moment where I decided to do what I want by shouting curse words?! Odd but kind of fun. The best bit was asking why certain people in had changed their appearance and then having them change right back to how I first saw them. I then also asked a person who was very nice in my dream, Disney nice, why I couldn’t be. Failing to realise I was essentially asking myself. And then yesterday it all went wrong as I dreamed about her. I asked her over and over again why she wouldn’t talk to me, why we couldn’t sort it out only to be faced with silence and a tiny smile. This went on until I broke down in my dream.

A bright and breezy opening for me eh? Now ? Now it’s back to normal. Today I’m in an odd state of being, kind of out of it but still in it. The old feeling of looking in, being an observer of life rather than partaking in it. My head feels as though it’s been laid with crushed velvet and I feel as low as I have ever done. All I keep thinking about is her. What I did wrong previously, why my black had to come and spoil everything, why I made her cry at times and how much I’ll miss her and the things we did together. A jumbled mess like a bowl of Neapolitan ice-cream all mixed and mashed up together with the darker colour winning out, just like now.

Over and over again like a dvd on loop I see her, tears falling, the sound she made when she cried, in my mind’s eye until it garners an inner reaction from my gut. I know it’s affected me as my usual activities matter not a jot, gym, writing etc. I can barely move, preferring to hug myself on the bed with my usual tunes blaring out. The urge to find a dark corner and disappear is strong as is the urge to SI.

Silly old me didn’t help himself at the weekend though by boozing. Not heavily but enough to make sure the bill was paid later on. This however is extra, the black and my inner self taking advantage, its mental boot hovering over my inner self ready to drop and push me down at a moments notice.

Maybe they should call if the black boot of depression? Because that’s what it feels like sometimes, one big boot ready to smash you down whenever it wants. Black dog is too benign for me, it suggests a sort of innocence and right now this feels anything but innocent. Oh my days will it ever end?

SI or scoffing some white choc’ with tea? Ahh nuts to it. 

Sweet melted choc' will at least give a little lift.

... just to see one of your smiles

There's no escape...

The last couple of days for some reason have been hard. My mind will not let go. I watched a programme called ‘The entire history of you’ the other day. In it there was technology whereby you could record your life, memories and everything around you, your entire history basically. By the end the main characters relationship had broken down and he found himself rewinding and going over older happier memories in his by now empty house. This was too much and he ended up removing it from his head. This affected me a bit as it’s something I’m doing sans the memory device that can be removed. It seems to be creeping in a fair old bit lately. Thurs was one as I revisited my former surroundings back when I was married. On an aside I also miss that home and part of me is sad that I’m away from it. Maybe one day…

Yesterday was bad for it and left me as listless as ever as my mind went over us over and over again. Apparently during the final move back I told my mum that nothing mattered as it was all my fault. I don’t recall saying this but it sort of makes sense. If I hadn’t had the black maybe…. Hmmm. Who can tell eh? It breaks me up that my former had neither the will nor the inclination to hold it out with me despite telling me that we’d get through it together. So here I now sit with only a mix of memories, Pink! Playing and a feeling of numbness that is gently sapping my energy and will to do anything other than cogitate and exist. Just.

This world is hard, it's cold, it's agony