Manic: A Former Episode

The room is silent save for the occasional cat meow or hiss; there is a complete and empty silence.  But not for me.  I’m never silenced, trains have derailed at break neck speeds inside of my brain and I don’t know how to fix it.  I feel sorry for the ones who love me; they constantly worry if I’m taking my medication, but I suppose history tends to repeat itself.  Or have I learned something life changing though this experience?

My mother died almost 3 months ago; well it will be 3 months on December 3rd.  I wonder what she’s doing, if there is an afterlife, how do we make it there?  There’s some force of energy that leaves our body when we die and since energy can neither be destroyed nor created, where does this mass of energy disappear to?  I wish I had the answers.  I pray so hard sometimes it makes the back of my eyes hurt.   And every time I go to church I cry.

Maybe they are right about me?  Maybe I am dangerous and harmful to others? Do I do things maliciously for the benefit of myself?  This line of reasoning calls into question everything I’ve held to be true about myself.  If I am the new wave in evolutionary improvements it sure doesn’t feel like it.

I think I’m all wrong on the inside, I feel smaller than I should and weaker than I want to be. I’m easy to cry, especially when I’m lonely.  And maybe that’s the hardest part of mom’s death, the bitter loneliness her passing away has left behind.  I listen to her voicemail on regular occasions just so I can hear her voice again.  It’s like she’s not dead but just gone.

I fixate on things that need no fixating on.  I’m concerned about my death.  I feel like there is definitely tragedy in my blood.  My life has seemed to be a series of missteps that work out in the end.  There have been numerous times I have been at the black hole of unconsciousness and never felt anything.  There was no bolt of lightning, no shining warmth, just the cold blackness of the back of my eyelids.  If I could have felt some rush, some spiritual sensation maybe I wouldn’t have tried to kill myself four times.  But each time I awoke, reality slithered back into place and there I was back at square one.


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