13 days sober
My mental state is deteriorating daily. I thought that psychosis had left me alone, had got bored of playing games with me, but He’s back with a vengeance. All the shadows and sounds scare me. The visual hallucinations are terrifying, always men coming to hurt me. But the auditory hallucinations are heartbreaking. I hear my little niece, her voice, I hear her in the hallway. I run out to see her and she’s not there. I hear you, your voice, saying “I can’t wait to marry you, I love you so much.” I hear children screaming. I hear women crying, although it’s not exactly crying, but more like a raw guttural wail. I hear men shouting and fighting and whistling and calling my name. I hear you laughing. Not a laugh of joy, rather a laugh of pity. I hear my own voice saying, “I can’t do this. I can’t take another day of this. I can’t live like this. I can’t, I can’t.”
I am terrified of my mind and what it is doing. I do not think that I can stand to experience another day of this. That is not to say that I want to die, as such. No, rather that I want to smash my skull open, remove my brain, and throw it into the path of oncoming traffic. Fucking cut it into pieces, burn it, watch it disintegrate in acid, just get it away from me, I don’t want it. I never asked for this. I didn’t sign up for this, this fucking torture, these thoughts, this constant oscillation of mood and unpredictable behaviour. I don’t know who I am anymore. I used to have beliefs and morals and opinions but now I possess none of these. I know that I have done some bad things in life but I do not deserve this. I don’t deserve this.
I just watched a rainbow form, glow brightly and then fade. I watched the colours melt into the clouds so gently. When I die I hope that I fade in the same way. Graceful and peaceful and quiet and beautiful.
I am very scared. Usually, I do not care much about my self. But my thoughts, the constant paranoia, this psychotic break, and the overall decline of my condition makes me very worried. I think for the first time in my life, I am concerned for my own well being. But my brain won’t let me do anything about it. I have no control over this. I want it to stop, all of it, I want it to stop. I’m terrified of what my mind is going to do next. I don’t know how many more days I can manage to exist with this torture and anguish and despair and confusion and crippling sadness, I can’t, I can’t. I can’t do this for ever. Certainly not for longer than a few days, and even then I say this with hesitation and twisted optimism. Go on, call me a defeatist, I fucking dare you. I fucking dare you.
I don’t want to be present or awake to experience any more torture today. I am taking some sedatives and going to bed. I do not pray for sweet dreams, I pray for no dreams at all.