She asks me, “What’s wrong?”
Here I am, lifting the heavy glass of whiskey to my lips, pondering over this question…it clangs and reverberates in the recesses of my skull:
She gives me that look. I feel completely useless, empty, and drained. She’s searching for some kind of answer in my eyes. I know this. I dig deep into my mind, desperately grasping for anything I can give to her- or even myself. She wants to help me, but in her efforts, I feel helpless. I’m so tired of hurting people. I’m tired of being unfixable. She reassures me that she loves me and that she just wants to make sure I’m alright- it’s okay, she doesn’t mind worrying about me.
Meanwhile, as she’s telling me all of this, all I hear in my mind is, “She’s lying…she’s using you…don’t listen to her…nobody loves you…you’re hurting her…let her go, she’s innocent…why are you doing this to her?…she’s lying…”
I know she loves me and truly wants to help me. But God, how scared I am for the day when she wakes up and realizes that I’m too much to handle. I’m a far-gone case. Or worse, what if I actually end up hurting her in the end?
I’ll be honest with you, I’m really scared. I keep thinking to myself that this is just a valley of depression. I’ll wake up tomorrow and I’ll feel better. I’ll wake up and the malicious voices will be gone. I’ll be able to sleep through the night and not have to worry about waking up to someone towering over my bed, jaw stretched wide, lanky-limbed and mean.
Just as always, I tell myself, this won’t last long. It’l be over soon. Tell me why, then, it’s progressing into my daily activities. It infiltrates my existence. By “it”, I’m not only referring to the hallucinations or the voices. I’m referring to the sudden chapters of severe depression, the intense flights of utter psychosis, the moments of “oh fuck, am I actually awake right now?”
Today, as I was working, I heard a voice tell me to take the letter opener and push it through my chest. I swear to you, as clear as day. And I swear to you, I actually had to consciously stop myself from thrusting the silver into me. I excused myself to the restroom, I fell to the floor, and I cried. I had the thought to ask someone to come sit with me, but that would have been futile. Instead, I washed my face and went back to my area with a smile on my face.
It did get better. On my way home, I was able to calm down.
But, to answer her perpetual question, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I wish I could tell her.
I’m always afraid of sounding insane. However, if you want to know the truth, this person….Sibyl…I swear, she’s taking over me.