The other person

6 months it has been since the depression started again after an absence of 4 years. I thought dancing cured it but it resurfaced with the Mayanthi drama and Deshani leaving. I'm not sure what the trigger was but I suspect, it was that sinking feeling of loneliness and sudden darkening of the room in my mind that did it. Being with Vishmi helped a little bit, I felt a decrease in the time span of a single attack, but now that's gone. I have no reason to fight back the clouds and with everyday it gets worse.

Today it seemed like I shut off for a while. The symptoms were the usual headache, increase of pressure on the brain, the vigorous pulsation of arteries on my eyeballs and that feeling of darkness and loss of my sense of fear. I hate it when that happens, everything seems possible, even jumping off the terrace. It scares me, because I'm not afraid to die, but don't want to at this stage. I wish it would stop.

But this bout of it was different from other days because it's like I lost control of myself for an hour, like somehow I went to sleep and it was another person in control. Such a surreal feeling looking at it now. I knew Seni was busy, but I wanted to call Vishmi, but couldn't, but somehow the thought of that sparked me to writer her a letter. This is all too fucking weird, I hope it doesn't happen again. Or maybe it should, so that this ends once and for all. All for once, I wish the other person can take control and do the necessary.

Afterthoughts

I would like to think we were both right. I'd like to think we were both wrong. At this point I don't think there is a point to going back and trying to figure out what, where, or when it went wrong. The writing is clear and you're just another brick in the wall of someone else's memory or forever a scar on their heart. As for me, finally I have closure. I've played my part in her story and given my everything to see her happy, and I mean everything. But I should know better than to expect the same. Life's endearing lesson and after all these years I still haven't learned it.

My faith will always be in fate. Que Sera Sera, they say whatever will be, will be. I still love her, her happiness mine, if this is what makes her happy, why should I try to change it. Some days in this greater scheme of things, you're a crucial piece on the board and other days, you're a dispensable pawn. It is one of the cruelly revealing truths of life, never take anything for granted and never expect out of something you can't control. I made the mistake of forgetting that and so the price I paid for the sandcastles we made next to the sea of reality.

The price is heavy and after all I've done, I don't think I deserve to pay this price. 5 meals and counting that I've skipped because I have no appetite, the depression in my head is almost tangible and pressing against my brain causing a unending headache and ringing in my ears that never stops and gives me no sleep. The angina's set in like tremors and aftershocks, wish someone could something about at least that. But oh well David, this is the price you pay for everyday that you spent dreaming. Then again, I can't help it, I'm survivor of rock bottom, optimism keeps me going.

As for her, I hope she finds the man her mother wants her to get married to. Pity she will always live in the shadow of her mother's superficialities. Such a waste of a beautiful soul and amazing human being. Brings me tears to write that last line. I have tried to set her free, but my best wasn't good enough, I hope she finds her way. I hope I have shown her a way. I hope she finds the happiness she is looking for. I will always look up to her and adore her the way I always have. Time to time, my phone rings and I hear Marvin Gaye's voice and I'm taken back to that day at Coco where it all happen.

As for me, I go back to Galle a broken man. A homeless bastard soldier of fortune bleeding from the place his heart used to be. This love has cost me much, in health and work. So much for all those off days I took to help with a college assignment. So much to pick up than just the pen. But this ordeal has thought me much - I really have nothing to live for. I once had ideals, dreams and hopes. I wanted to change things, fight for the wronged, feed the hungry, run around making people happy and solving their problems. What am I, Mary fucking Poppins?! You have to solve your own problems before you help another.

Maybe then I am the problem. Maybe then I wasn't meant to fight all those odds. Maybe I wasn't miraculously supposed to fight the abortion. Life would be much simpler. I don't know what I'm going to do. The pain keeps getting stronger and everything else just keeps growing weaker. Nevertheless, I've been set free from hoping, shown a life worth not coping. I will just crawl into my hammock and hope it takes..wait a minute. The answer was always been before my eyes. The sea. This is probably the reason I never learnt how to swim. The time will come son when you know what you have to do.

Veni Vidi Failed



Those were some perfect days, she kept me hanging on
But like all things good, it can't keep going on and on
The end comes even to the best of us all
All you can do is comfort yourself and stand tall
You did everything you could and know you always will
One day maybe, reward will come, that day till
Just believe in yesterday

The End

The end is coming. I can feel it, every cell in my body. Like weary Nazi soldiers awaiting the inevitable last coming of the Russian forces. Judgement Day beckons. In this life I have loved and lost. Lost more actually, and if there was anything I've ever gained, it was things I don't deserve. So many things I don't deserve, when all I did was set out on a journey of humanity to spread happiness. But an important lesson I've learned from this is - stop lending your happiness to others, they're just going to run away with it. But it's a vicious cycle. I've had enough. Dad once said "lets go out and prove that nice guys don't finish last". Sorry Dad, that's left for someone else to prove.

I don't know how people can be so heartless sometimes, but then again, that wonder is an unending one. A question with no answer. But I've had enough, I'm not going to put up with this. The clouds of depression race in over my head and the veins in my eyes strike red like lightning and my heart's hurt beats as loud as thunder. The winds of uncertainty blow across as the voice of destiny plays its siren song. It's beautiful hum, the sound of the end. Funny how one of the books I'm working on now as actually called 'Becoming'. Well I'm not going to stand for what's becoming in my life. Yet again I'm taken on a flying carpet, used and discarded in a desert of loneliness.

I thought for a moment there, it was different. Oh well, I have myself to blame for expecting. But I'm done expecting, hoping, helping, caring, loving, liking, giving a flying fuck. The end is coming, the music gets louder as everything else numbs. The end is in the air tonight, come get me motherfucker, I don't care how anymore

I want to die in my sleep

The best way to die isn't being a hero. You maybe shot, blown up or mutilated but your loved ones will always question you. Forever there will be in their minds the argument that you were selfish, you left them behind and that they'd rather see you a coward alive than a hero dead.

Looking at the varied other methods to exit the world in terms of suicide; most of the methods are messy. The most glamorous of course being ODing on drugs and dying of asphyxiation, not a very pretty way to be found lying in your couch covered in blood and puke with your eyes reaching for the stars while your soul hangs from the rafters above watching the people who loved you, or at least you loved trying to resuscitate you without success. But the catch there is that it only works if you were 27 like Hendrix and Cobain, Forever 27 you will remain they will most likely carve on your tombstone. Choke when you're anything but 27 and you're labelled a junkie. Good thing about it though is that there is no room for uncertainty, once you snort that shit or shoot up, there is no turning back, the merchants of death begin their work and there ain't no stopping them.

Slitting your wrists I suppose is the most common way to go, but that too is messy, bloody messy and your body's defense mechanisms and life preservation systems kick in and Vito your will to die. I've tried it and many a time, I'm left with nothing but an incision, a bloody razor, a lot of explaining to do on how I accidentally cut it while getting off a bus and having to live with myself thinking I was too pussy to die. But using a drowsing agent does help, like maybe overdoing a lot of Panadol. That shit numbs your senses, drops your reflexes and stirs your brain and perception of time leaving you in a daze but most often than not your earlier said mechanisms and systems can kick in and Vito it and make you drag your ass to the doctor and that too leaves a lot of explaining to do and they're probably going to recommend you to go see a shrink, keep you under surveillance or worse, enroll you in a help group, fuck!

It is sort of the same scenario when it comes to asphyxiation via hanging. Pretty old school method and can be efficient if you do it right but then again there is the chance of those earlier said mechanisms coming into play causing you to force your way out of the predicament and in the process damaging other body parts and ending up with a strained neck or damage to the connection between your tongue and your larynx and throat and fuck! that hurts like a bitch even years later, it's like a cramp at the top of your throat that leaves you in pain, immobile and speechless for a minute or two, not handy if you lived past dying and on a date with another person might eventually try the same thing again. Plus this is also a really ugly way of dying because the moment that noose pulls upwards you feel your eyes bulging and trying to shoot out through the roof like a flare saying "help! this crazy mafucker tryna' kill himself". So being found dangling from the rafters with your eyes popped out while your lifeless body waves about in the breeze of the cold November rain, life blown out like a candle in the wind - yes, not too pretty.

In much the same way, there's a million ways to die, in fact, there is a whole book in talking about it but if only I had the time. I think dying in my sleep is how I would want to go, or maybe even donating organs to my mum who deserves their services more than I do. But I wish I knew how to do it - they say where there's a will, there is a way, so if I will hard enough can I really die in my sleep? If only that were the case. No hurt or damage to my face, wearing a smile that forever stays, no one to question if I had suicidal ways. After all, no one cares anyway, and even if they do, there is no reason to complain, those who really care will realize I have come to journey's end, to the place where it all began, dust to dust, where I don't have to suffer the cost of living or bare the pains of loving. Perhaps I will be missed, perhaps I won't, too bad I've driven off everyone who'd come and say don't. No more yearning or discerning, just a young life lived and lost to world of careless dreams and wastes years full of screams, long days and dark nights where comfort has come only through the voices and instruments of those who dared to dream, all hail the Gods of metal. Life is a choice in which the only assurance is death, the get out of jail card, take it or not, the question returns after many years, make me ponder and wonder in the sound of silence.

I'm on way

So it seems that like all things in my life; the good comes and goes before you can get used to it; like Cobain said, there's something in the way. I'm on the long road again, walking along with my backpack of hope, regrets and dreams searching for a home, walking towards the end of days on the edge of civilization. My shadow, the only one whose never left me over the years disappear as the clouds of depression set in. Home I think is beyond this world for me, I want to go there, may the rains of redemption come drown me, take me across; this life has too many crosses to bare, maybe I won't wait for the rains, it's getting dark...too dark to see...

When you reach where you're supposed

I think I've reached a place where I was supposed to reach, don't know where that is, but I can feel it. This is not to say I reached my life's destination or the place where I will be forever, but I have reached somewhere. Waking up way too early in the morning feels so normal, the world turns a bit slower but life moves faster and I can live with the man in the mirror but more importantly I can look into the eyes of people who care and say, hey I'm trying, almost there, I'm on my way, home sweet home.

When the lights fade

When the lights fade; the people go home, the attention goes to sleep and you're left with nothing but a bottle of scotch and regrets. Like now, I'm left with no one, my mum is leaving me, my boss is my boss, her kids and life will always come to her first, I don't even consider my siblings as siblings and after all I've done for people, what am I left with? Fuck all actually.

One days everyone, every 'friend' will be with someone, what you had, years, months of a connection changes in nan instant, makes you wonder, is time better spent helping another life, or trying to take your own. I'm so depressed that even my eyes refused to open fully. I'm sick of this, I've never done anything but help people, yet I remain where I was, alone. Giving up is the easiest option, hope I don't get through this night, don't really want to take more of this.