Diary of a Mixed State

Editor’s note: If you experience suicidal thoughts, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.

My eyes open. It’s 10 a.m. Nothing but darkness, with a slight shine breaking the edge of the black sheet blanketing the window. I shield my eyes with the bend inside my elbow. I’m awake. I’m alive. Another day I don’t know how to handle. I slide the shower lever. Water, extra hot, rains on my back. It burns. It feels good. It reminds me of my skin, of nerves, of feeling. I don’t want to get out and face the world. This is my sanctuary.

It’s 90 degrees out. I pop on my beanie because there’s no use for style today. I don’t eat breakfast. I slide into my car, start the engine, breathe deeply and talk the anxiety away. It stays.

Foot on the gas. Driving. I smile. I feel that instant rush of energy. Pedal to the floor. I climb: 50, 60, 70, 80, 90. Wait. What am I doing? I slow. I want new shoes. I buy new shoes. I want new jeans. I buy new jeans. The mall is my closet. Whatever I want I shall have. Credit card swipes. Swipes. Swipes. It’s a rush. I walk outside with a stride, a leap, a gulping laughter.

What did I just do? No money. No use. I am a failure. Who would ever want me? I don’t want me. I do nothing right. Fuck. You’re useless. You’re better off dead. Don’t you even dare wake up tomorrow.

Beer. It sloshes in the glass. I feel better. What was I even thinking? I’m fine! I’m basically invincible. I have to tell someone how great today is!

Text. Text. Text.

Ramble. Ramble. Ramble.

No response.

No response.

It’s been 10 minutes. No response. Why?

Because I’m loveless. Nothing. No one. Who cares?

I drive. No direction. Maybe the mountains? No. Maybe the city? No.

Circles, squares, parking lots. I need to drive. I need to get somewhere. Puff. It’s my eighth cigarette today. Feels good. Feels bad. I buy another pack.

Sunset. Beautiful. Calming. Exhausted.

Unsure what to feel, I slip into bed. TV. Another shower. I slowly fade.

I’m alive. I feel better. I’m stable.

It was my second mixed state, but I’m getting better.

And I know there’s hope.

There’s always hope.

There’s. Always. Hope.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “START” to 741-741.

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Unsplash photo via Angel Monsanto III.

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