Alive... sort of [trigger warning] · 10:40pm Nov 24th, 2015
Alive... the word feels strange, foreign on my tongue. I can pronounce it fine, but what it stands for feels distant, gone almost.
Not because English is my second language, but because lately I've found myself slipping back into old habits and ways of thinking. Dark times.
I no longer feel any conncetion with my surroundings, I rarely speak outside of what is required for my vocational training, and even that is more a farce than real interaction. To my classmates, I may seem lively and studious, taken up with assignments and earning an almost 4.0 GPA.
I am not that person.
The german phrase meaning "to be taken up with something" could just as well be translated as "to come undone", and this would describe my inner turmoil in a much more exact way. I feel hollow, like a walking corpse wearing a mask just to hold up expectations of parents (both sides, divorced and remarried), teachers, classmates and the very few friends that I actually have.
Let's go back a couple years into the past, a little background as to what I am facing today.
Ever since I can remember, I was an outcast, beginning in elementary and even moreso in highschool. I never much cared for going out, I had barely any friends and social interaction terrified me. I did exceptionally well at school, not because I studied much, but because my mind is good at recalling facts and data, especially on topics that interest me. That combined with my awkwardness around people made life pretty hard.
Once highschool was finished, I promised myself that I would try to change habits in college and be more relaxed and open around people.
It failed, pretty drastically so.
What I hadn't taken into consideration was simply that instead of 20 people in class I wasn't comfortable around there suddenly were more than 300 even in the smaller lecture halls. After a couple horrible attempts I stopped forcing myself and withdrew even more. I was 100 miles away from any family, so noone was around to coerce me. My first roommate kicked me out stating I was "a psychopath". I can only laugh humorlessly at the irony.
The second flat I shared with people actually had me warm up to human interaction, only to fall to pieces when one after another, the other students started leaving. I dropped out of college in early 2013, after three semesters I barely attended except for midterms and finals.
I guess it was around November 2012 that I decided I didn't find anything worthwhile in my life any more and began thinking on ways to end my existence.
The big idea behind that was to give my family, specifically my father, something to think about for all the pressure they gave me. I know I was always pretty damn good at school, but it's another thing entirely when the expectations include getting a PhD in chemistry before the age of 25. Anyway, I ultimately decided on pain and suffering playing a part in my demise and proceeded to spend over 150 bucks on a japanese 8" kitchen knife that I considered sharp enough to cut through skin without much hassle.
Like and good scientist, I started off small and with shallow cuts to test the blade and required force. Within two weeks, my palms were riddled with dozens of cuts, some smaller and some deep enough that they would take months to fully heal.
Shortly after I drove home for christmas because it was expected of me, and while I was there my family started noticing I was somewhat different, but didn't inquire further. The weekend before my birthday in February, after failing a maths midterm, my dad and stepmom cornered me on why my grades were slipping and why I was so distant (notice the prioritisation). He got me so desperate and angry I shoved my hands in his face shouting "Look at what you do to me!".
Tuesday after, on my 20th birthday, I got institutionalized. Being forced to take a break from electronics helped, along with finding someone who understood and accepted me for who I was. It saved my life.
And for the better part of the following time, I was happy. Some due to medication, but soon enough I got rid of that as well, and my mood improved. I started anew, with less expectations from family, after I explained very clearly they could either have me be what I want or dead. Most chose the former, and the others I avoid contact with as much as possible.
However, with the start of my vocational training in fall 2014, I moved further away and my girlfriend had to stay behind. The support I had built my life around was suddenly missing, but I focused my energy into school and it got me to the top of the class, again. Having my girlfriend visit occasionally helped, and I settled in.
After recent events including a slashed tire, stress from midterms, having issues with my girlfriend due to geographical distance, my family being somewhat indifferent to everything going on and all of my applications for a mandatory internship in February coming back negative, I feel myself running out of options if life keeps piling more shit on top of this veritable hill.
So much (indeed) for the circumstances leading up to my current state on mind. I know crossing the line and killing myself is out of the question. Aside from a temporary moment of complete insanity, I am well beyond that.
What I am not beyond, unfortunately, is the habit of harming myself. About four weeks when this whole ordeal started, I told myself I would get through this. I still tell me this each and every day, but I can't deny the fact that the very same knife I got back then has etched over a dozen new markings into my skin. I hate myself for it, and I know rationally that it is merely an expression of inner pain I find no other valve for, but it doesn't change what I have been doing and continue to do to myself.
The only solace I find at this moment is the upcoming visit of one of my best friends and the guy who likely knows me better than any other person I ever came into contact with. 7 days, Cavemonkynick. 7 days.
Sorry for venting like that, but I really needed to get that off my chest.
Even knowing that likely noone will read this, much less respond, it helps just having said it. The troulb eis not gone, but at least it's not bashing against the inside of my skull as loudly anymore.
7 days my friend. 6 probably, by the time you read this. We'll play games without lag, talk without skype, and forget the world in general for a while. Except for Comic-con. Don't wanna forget comic-con. I'm off until the flight after tomorrow, granted Thursday is Thanksgiving but beyond that hit me up.