Move On

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
It's just something I did when I couldn't sleep in the middle of the night.

Submitted: May 02, 2016

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Submitted: May 02, 2016



It’s 2:42 a.m. and I feel it again like a cool breeze running through my body giving me chills. I feel the loneliness and the sadness that constantly keeps me from self expression. I start to remember everything… The people I’ve wrong and the people I loved who I let down. Then I feel it a sharp stab at my heart from the meta-physical pain of depression. The soft warm liquid coming down my face telling me that something is wrong, but what? Repressed memories fuel my dreams, but it’s the night after of not remembering exactly what happened that makes me stay up at night. I didn’t cheat to because I was some perverted asshole just looking for a piece of ass, but as a way to get back at her a way to say fuck you! For the countless amount of times I let her back in. I knew what I was doing the last time I forgave her. “It’s okay I know you won’t do it again honey. I love you.” I said, with my inner self knowing exactly what I was about to do. We kissed and she cried. I let her go and she went home. “Bitch! You stupid fucking cunt!” I said aloud to myself in my empty home hoping that someone would hear me in my agony and at least pretend to care about what was going on. I text my friend Sophie and she replies with a, She did it again didn’t she? And that’s about all I can remember right before I find myself at her house; calling my girlfriend then proceeding to sleep with Sophie as my girlfriend cries on the other end of the line. What makes the whole situation so funny is I can’t even remember her name and I guess that’s what I’m obsessing over, while I lay here in bed feeling as though my body is made of goop and someone is shoving their hand down my throat pulling out my heart. Then I begin to think of the time I spent in the hospital for a “failed suicide attempt.” I wasn’t actually going to do it. I tied a piece of rope around my bed post then wrapped it around my neck and held the end and squeezed. I began to feel the blood rushing through my neck and slowly getting more and more drowsy, but that’s not how you kill yourself I just wanted to know what it would feel like if I did hang myself, but then my mom walked in. It absolutely ruined her… She looked at me, screamed, and burst into tear and I let go of the rope. There’s a large mirror on the right side of my bed connected to my closet doors so I looked away from her and looked towards the mirror and oh boy was my neck red. I could honestly see why she was freaking out, but again she mis-judged the situation and took me to the hospital said I needed help and they put me under suicide watch for two weeks. Now that was some trippy shit. High doses of Zoloft and being surrounded by truely insane people, when you know you’re not insane starts to make you believe that you are insane. I don’t care how mentally stable you believe you are; spend a week, in what is basically a prison, surrounded by people who are legitimately clinically insane and tell me you’re normal after that. I’m willing to bet my life that you won’t think you belong in the outside world, but then again who am I willing to bet my life right? I had an “attempted suicide” a while back so my life bets don’t mean much. The night time turns my memories into a Billy Pilgrim type of situation where time is disoriented, but again just like most things, it doesn’t really matter and like any other depressed cook I’ll continue to stay up night after night giving coal to the fire that is my insomnia with thoughts of the past instead of listening to those two words Sophie told me after our little fling, “Move on.”

© Copyright 2018 Elias Guillen. All rights reserved.

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