Thoughts...

I was going to commit suicide once. Was pretty serious about it. Considered it a few times, but this particular time I was really going through with it. Had my gun. Bullets. Alone in my apartment. Loaded the gun. Put it in my mouth.

Couldn't do it.

TV was on. Somewhere in the haze of crying as I tried, but couldn't pull the trigger, I heard the suicide prevention line commercial come on. Took that as a sign. Put down the rifle. Picked up the telephone. Called the hotline.

Someone answered. I started blurting out how I was going to kill myself. That I had a gun. I was ready to do it, but having trouble. I was a mess. I needed help. Just please somebody, anybody, help me. His voice came over the line --

"I'm sorry… but I am just the answering service. If you want, I can take your number and have someone call you back."

I said, "Never mind," and hung up. I sat for a while. I dried my tears. I realized that there was no one in this world for me, but me. I decided to keep going on. But I wasn't happy about it.

Made art about it. Had bullet engraved with my name on it. Put it in a frame with a staged picture of me with the gun in my mouth. Bad poem handwritten next to it. It got some laughs.

It was lost with everything else in 1998.

For a long time, I kept a shotgun slug with my name on it on display in my living room. Ready to pick up and use. Also lost in 1998. Along with my guns.

My going on was meant to be my big "F*ck you" to the system, the world, by continuing. But it has not been.

I did go to counseling now and again. "All in my head," and "I can change the tapes that run in my mind," were the advice. Was given drugs, but they were horrible… bad hallucinations. Couldn't trust what was real and unreal...

A couple times during grad school I considered suicide again. Went to the school doctor. He prescribed something. Never filled it. Framed the prescription. Kept it on display in various apartments and houses for a while. It's put away now. Doesn't seem so funny any more.

My friend recently committed suicide. He shot himself in the heart. He was a sensitive, artistic guy. I see why he did it.

He was also damaged goods. AND he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. A disease, his sister called it at the memorial service/funeral. It was the disease that killed him -- not the gunshot. I see why he did it.

I am looking at, once again, losing my business. My money is run out. I cannot take care of what I am supposed to. I cannot deal with what I am supposed to.

I have two beautiful children. I have a beautiful girlfriend - though she is done with me and I do not think she cares for me anymore. I should not die for them. But I do not want to burden them with my pain and how awful I feel and that I am making them.

My repeating fantasy is recently to have my girlfriend kill me. To hold her hand while she thrusts the knife blade into my heart. I think about pulling a gun on myself. I have one here for it.

But I want to die. I do not want to go on...

But, then… maybe I will.

Hate

Dear person who will probably never read this... and even if you do, probably will not think it is about you --

I have never hated anyone in my life before... but I hate you.

Oh, sure - I have disliked individuals before... I have even been upset, disappointed, annoyed, disgusted, angry - even furious at times! But actual hate? No.

Yet now I am faced with seething, gut-churning, white hot, red-mist-clouding-my-vision HATE for you.

And this isn't the kind of hate you have for some abstract person like a celebrity or politician - where it is really just a dislike of the kind of person they are or their political beliefs or leanings. The abstract idea of blanket hate for people of a certain religion or social-economic background or race identification.

No, no... this is the genuine, deeply personal despising of everything that makes you, the individual, you.

The mere thought of you fills me with loathing... so I have put you as far out of mind as possible.
In the rare times someone mentions your name, apparently I give that person a look of disgust. I specifically ask people not to say your name in front of me. When I hear your name, I bristle - even when it is just a random use of it.
Images of you overwhelm me with the desire to deface them, delete them, and destroy them in any way I can.
Honestly, if I were ever to see you in person, I cannot trust myself that I would not assault you. And possibly whomever you are with, because the fact that they would keep company with the likes of you disgusts me as well.

I deleted every picture I had of you (especially the ones of you and me together), then I untagged every picture I could of you online that I had set. If I had any hardcopy pictures I would burn them. I am Photoshopping you out of my life and remembrance. I unfriended you from Facebook... then I went ahead and just blocked you, because I do not want to be tempted to go and look at your page or photos because seeing what you are up to or looking at your pictures just fills me with hatred, anger, disgust, and fury.

Even sitting here and typing this out - only because I thought getting these feelings out might make me feel a little better and let off some of that anger/hate/disgust - makes my hands shake, my vision blur, and the bile rise in my throat.

I hate you.

The only reason I can think of that created and brings about so much hate for you is that I once felt so much love for you. I cared about you. I cherished you. I looked out for and protected you. I did my very best for you. I did things that I wasn't happy to do - that went against my feelings of right and wrong - but I did everything I could to make up for that... and I did it because of all the love in my heart for you.
But you took - not just my feelings, my love, the part of my heart I had given - but everything that I did for you and wanted for you and dreamed about for you, and you not only destroyed it, but then took a big shit on it, too.

While I love my friends, I am so annoyed when they say, "well, it happened for this reason, and it happens for that reason." Sure - I get all of that, it absolutely makes sense. It is my hope that, down the road (give it some time), these reasons will console me more. Because, right now, they do not. I am just hateful.

Still loving my friends, I am somewhat disgusted to hear that they keep in contact with you, much less remain friends, or are keeping in touch. It makes me offended that they think so little of me, and what has been done to me. That, to them, it is nothing. I have to remind myself that their actions are (probably) not personal attacks towards me.

But sometimes that is hard to believe.

When I point out, "this person did this thing to me... are you sure you want to trust them?!" And I get back, "Oh, sure - well, that's you, right? I'm sure I will be treated better," from my (alleged) friend... I hope you get it and get it hard!! And when you get screwed over, (alleged) friend, and cheated and lied to and ripped off... EVEN THOUGH I WANT TO, I will take no joy in saying, "I told you so."

Well... maybe just a tiny twinge.

Sure, I considered taking petty revenge - but, really, what is the point? There is the possibility you would not see the actual hatred motivating it, and might (god forbid) take it as a sign that I am giving you intention... and I imagine that for you, that is what you really want. Another fish on your hook. Another sucker with you. Another person who is going to tell you how great you are - and they will honestly believe it.

That is what you want, isn't it?

You probably want to know that I am seething, and angry, and hateful. It's all fun and games to you right now, isn't it? At least, until that assault comes and it all becomes painfully real. That doing something to someone to create a real hatred in them is really not smart. And that's is part of it: you are not as smart as you think you are. You are not as "with it" as you think, either.

Because I don't think anyone has ever hated you before. You have made people mad by your lies and manipulation -- but most of the ones I talked to just wrote you off and want nothing else to do with you. They continue to put up with you, maybe have forgiven the slights. Some of them you still have hanging on - you keep them from slipping over that edge, somehow...

But not me.

I hate you.
I hate what you have done to me.
I hate what you have done to my family.
I hate what you have done to my kids.
I hate what you have done to my business.
I hate what you have done to my other personal and business relationships.
I hate the issues I see coming up in my professional and personal lives because of what you have done.
I hate that what you have done will affect my future relationships. I feel sorry for the people who will be affected by what you have done.

I am sorry for every moment I spent with you.
I am sorry for every moment I spent caring about you.
I am sorry for every moment I spent talking to you.
I am sorry for every moment I spent counseling you and pushing you to be better and move forward.
I am sorry for every moment I brought you to spend with my family.
I am sorry for introducing you to my girl and my children.
I am sorry for introducing you to my company and my friends.
I am sorry for including you in anything that I did, created, or was a part of.


What's more, I am sad because I always told you the truth...
        And everything you told me was lie.


Probably tomorrow, I will think better of this post and delete it.