Buried in the past (2020) - full story

Story isn't suitable for younger than 15 y.o and sensitive people:  potencially disturbing scenes, self-destructive scenes, depressing parts, could be bad influence for younger readers, it's very similar to story "It will never be better" because they are about same period, written on similar way so you can expect similar end. Do not try anything from the story, events in the story are fiction but most of the other things aren't, eventually they belong to some other period of my life. Story doesn't glorify self-destruction, on the contrary. I hope it will help at least someone not to end up like that.

(started 29.03.2020)
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  WEDNESDAY

 It's so peacefull... Seems that my parents aren't awake yet. I know I have to be, I have things to finish before school. It's Wednesday, February, still chilly outside but not as cold as in my thoughts. Nothing gives me any sensations, nothing hits me from inside neither positively nor negatively. I thought that death of psyche is feeling an endless pain, but recently I realised that the only thing worse than that is indifference. No one reaches to my core, nothing could make me cry, nothing seems interesting to me anymore. This is death, but I am still physicaly present.

 While my parents didn't come to room I had time to take two boxes of sedatives from medicine cabinet and smaller bottle of alcohol and take them to my room. Last evening I mixed several pills and alcohol to cause any sensation, reaction of body to a sypstance that's tearing my bowel, but nothing happened. I know I have stomachache. I know, but it's not like I feel it too. That's why I knew I will probably take bigger dose or... what if I take them all? Will I die? Is there any difference between mental and psysical death? I will bring them with me in my schoolbag, maybe I'll go somewhere where I'll need them. That would really be an odd schoolbag: notebooks, books, pencils, things "for any case", letal dose of sedatives and alcohol. If we count and that razorblade that I always carry inside then it really is one odd schoolbag, but to me it didn't seem weird at all as that bag is reflection of me.

 After that was breakfast, then changing clothes, brushing my hair, one more checking of schoolbag before I go. Today I have test on musical class. I don't care. I already know that would be one more A or B in my column, one more letter that doesn't mean anything to me for a while. I am a good student, with good behavior and always present on classes... Maybe that's the problem. In our school no one notices when something happens to quiet, outdrawn students, but notice only when someone makes some small incident or skips the classes. Those students are then send to phychologist who doesn't help them at all so all of it repeats  (unless these kids eventually don't get bored by retelling of psychology lessons that are utterly objective, forgetting that job of psychologist is to subjectively approach certain problem because not every person is the same).

 Actually, I think that there they are only telling them to stop with certain action instead to deal with source of the problem that led to that action, attributing all of that to child's mischief or rebelion. Typical. Poor kids that have no better support in that tough period but they are left to these who are "doing their job" while they actually do nothing.

 During the elementary school I was sent to psychologist only once,during P.E.class, but I didn't go. Problem started when I didn't want to take my coat (or a top part of tracksuit, but I think it was a coat) because even since I panicked when I was supposed to take off some part of my clothes (I was ashamed to talk about it, a lot of times I lied that I forgot my equipment so I wouldn't be forced to stay in it), risking to listen scolding and shouting again as on the most classes. Every P. E. class for me was like waiting an execution; waiting the class- quiet agony, standing in the line- military squad, scolds and menaces- bullet to my heart, all after that till the end of class- slow loss of blood and agonizing death. It seems to me that real military squad would be way easier, at least all of that would stop right after the shot, while this is repeating all over again.

 Still, I have other reasons for which I would probably end up at psychologist, but I think that jerk like me is just a waste of time. All I hope is that more people aren't thinking like that because we would have a big problem then, I sincerely wish others to recover and that their problems get solved. You are wondering- why I don't think that I am worth enough to get help? I have nothing to give to this world, even things I am good at have no purpose. I am one of a billon passable individues of  Homo-sapiens that give meaning to eternal vanishing with trivial activities so on the border of blackness and iluminating light they can say they fullfiled their lives. I am not living in the psysical world and keep distancing from it even more, thus forgeting it's rules, norms and moral values, while my inner world in the same time elevate me to heaven that I adore and throws me into the abyss that brings me peace of death. Here we go, I am philosophising again. I always have to philosophise and no one understands me, that means I am not even good philosopher neither. No suprise that they consider me as a fool, I also think I lost myself completely.

Walking to school, entering inside and sitting on the same place on the bench near the window were some kind of routine during the winter months and cold and rainy days, while during the warmer days we waited in front of some of two entrances (there were five entrances overall: one for primary school, the second for teachers, the third for staff, two were mostly for elementary school but occasionaly others used them too). Lost in my world I waited school to become filled with annoying noice and that perfect peace breaks with familiar and less familiar faces from which I would barely find some that I can start conversation with to at least a little bit distract my mind from anixety that started. Staring through the window, as I always liked to do whenever I would be close to the windows, I remembered that there are two boxes of medicine in my schoolbag and suddenly throught that I brought them for nothing, it's not like I'll overdose here in school or something. Pills (with alcohol) need several hours to kill someone, no doubt that someone would realise what's happening because certain amount would put me to sleep as soon as possible but destroy my inner functions for a long time- more than enough of time to end up in a hospital across the street. Of course I wouldn't be insane to make such a mindless step in public.

 Class by class, avoiding social interactions as much as possible, we came to sixth class aka musical class. I went downstairs to lady's rest-room and looked myself in the mirror, not even giving a damn for the fact that bell for beginning of the class just rang. I was alone in the room still staring at my reflection. Imagine... imagine that person I see in this moment exists no more, that creature I am looking at right now tomorrow simply stops to be here, in this school, in this town, on this planet. Today I am staring at my reflection, tomorrow that reflection exist no more. How fascinating. It is so easy to dissapear, how fascinating fact it is that death is matter of the moment whether we expect it or not. All of people that stares at me like this will probably notice that something is missing, maybe that's when they'll notice my absence while they stare at blank space where once ago was psychical representation of what used to be me. How many people we used to look at every day, for no special reason, until one day we didn't realise they are gone and felt some kind of emptiness just by looking at direction where we always expected them? That could be someone close to us, some acquintance or just a random person that we meet, for example, on our way to work, but feeling that something or someone is missing is certanly present. Does feeling that someone needs us keep us alive? While looking at my reflection in that mirror I realised there won't be big loss for the people around me- they can find more cheerful things to look at, they can notice some great people around and give them a chance to show them their world, they can look at whatever they want just to forget my despicable disgusting face as soon as possible. I am staring at myself for a fifteen minutes and I am already sick of myself, poor people who have to look at me every day.

 In the moment when some girl entered the rest-room I realised that I am way too late for test so I wanted to at least take my bag and wait for the next class, religion class. Anyway, one person brought my bag inside so there was no other choice but to enter the classroom. Teacher (after my admission): "Where were you? I wrote that you aren't on class." Me (indifferent): "Okay, no problem. I'll take my bag and I won't bother rest of the department..." Teacher: "Sit and do the test, you have half hour left." Me:" Oh... I  know nothing, give me F so I can go." Teacher: "I know that isn't true, go to last desk as there's no one and do how much you can, you are doing tests quickly anyway."
 
 There was no other option but to do that. I took a glance at questions and I knew their answers, but in my head were some other questions for which I didn't know the answers.  Really: Does feeling that someone needs us keep us here? Maybe... passion for something that's important only to us? Does curiosity, that feeling when you want to know what comes after this moment, keep us stuck to life? If now I would have to write, on this paper blank as my motivation for all of these passable things which other people call normal activities, what keeps me here and what else do I want from myself and this life-  paper would be even more blank than it is. Hand started writing on it's own, thus making several sentences without barriers, without thinking about consenquences. Who cares, I don't feel that this is reality, all of this is now one big illusion and I am lost somewhere in it.

 I took my bag, left test on my desk and went out, first from classroom then the school, looking for a taxi to take me away from people where I could be completely alone.

 In the end of class teacher announced the end of test so someone brought my paper too, accidentaly reading one part and notified a teacher.

 It was clear as a whistle that something is not allright so she hurried to find our form teacher right after it and show what kind of nonsense I 've wrote. Too early it came to someone's glance, it was only supposed to be help for investigation several days later when they can't find me, not to ruin everything. I hoped that no one will see that paper at least one week, until the next musical class, but I haven't planned that one week might become right now. They had what to see:

 "How am I supposed to write about masterpieces of those great artists when me, so-called artist, am not even worth enough just to mention their names? Whatever I make is not good enough, while all of  those magnificient minds created masterpieces which will be learned about, adored and understood to it's core by many generations. There's belief that the most artists are odd people, don't know for others but it's true for me, except for the fact that I am too worthless to call myself an artist, not even a human being. I've always been interested for tragic fates of peoples so I got intriqued by story of Mozzart's death- elevated to heaven in youth then thrown into tomb without gravestone or any mark like a pauper, sharing one tomb with many more poor people. That's how it goes with life too; as kids they teach us that everything will be fine, then we grow up and realize that world is cruel place, we realize that life is nothing but  a way to death. The second most- famous composer, Beethoven, had that misfortune to lose his hearing. That would be a great loss for anyone, but for composer that's equal to death (what Beethoven considered as option for a while), so he spent part of his life in silence. Beethoven choose to stay in his silence, searching on other's faces beauty of his melody and hoping it has found way to their hearts. I am not brave as Beethoven was to look people in the eyes and find encouragement in them, to read in their glance if my heart is still beating or it passed away. I... won't spent the rest of my life in silence of my mind. I quit."

 This two-way note unconsciously written for fifteen minutes disturbed form teacher who quickly went to group who had religion class. She asked if I acted odd during the day and the days before, did I mention something... They came to conclution that I was odd (oh, that's big discovery!) and that I talk very little for a days  (wait, they noticed that now?) but that didn't really help to come to some important informations. Until... they didn't reach to question: "Did she talk about hurting herself, about suicide or something similar?"- that's when person who was always around me said that I talked about it. Oh, dammit.

 My phone rang. Me: "Yes?" Form teacher: "Where did you go? Where are you now? What means that thing you wrote on the test?" Me: "Everything is fine, continue with your lives." Form teacher: "You have one more class, where did you go?" Me: ,,To take a walk." Form teacher: ,,Get back to class, we need to talk." Me: "I can't, I am outta town." Form teacher: "How did you get out of town?!" Me: "With taxi." Form teacher: "What are you doing out there?! Where are you going? I will call your parents if you don't explain to me where are you and what are you doing!" Me: "They will have to find out anyway." Form teacher: "To find out what? Answer my questions!" Me (indifferent): "Don't worry for me, everything is fine." Form teacher: "Is it true what (certain person) said, that you think about suicide? Don't you dare to do that! (pause) Hello, are you still there?" Me (still in the same tone): "Obiously I had such a thoughts if I talked about it, so I would disappoint you since the beginning. It would be awful from my side to promise you things I can't fullfill. And what you asked about test... honestly, I have no idea what I have wrote, I scribbled the first thing that came to my mind. Here." Form teacher: "Now you are making me scared... what are you doing away from the town? We will send someone for you, don't go too far or to do something stupid... (line broke)... Hello? Hello?! (for herself) We have to go to taxi service, maybe someone had seen her!"

 While they tried to find me (why the hell would someone search for me, stupid jerk like me must disappear) I entered the forest, walked to the one nice tree under which I sat and pulled out these two boxes of pills and bottle of alcohol. I smiled while I was getting closer and closer to my death (had to take candy to moderate bitterness of pills and strong taste of alcohol), I felt somehow... happy. It was like I've waited for this my whole life, as if now I could fly because of the fact that now I don't have to worry about anything, as if for the first time (and seems the last) I am doing something that I really want. As if... I am finally free. I couldn't enjoy that feeling for too long, pills quickly put me to sleep and made to lay my head on schoolbag. Slowly I sank into sleep.

 Usually in every story I get what I want, but this time that wasn't a case. A little bit before my official death, by following the trace that lead to me, police found my shelter, called emergency which took me to the hospital and there brought me to life. What's a pitty, I was really close. That Wednesday I supposed to go on my way, but there happened scenario that I craved the least- staying in the hospital. Damn it.

-

THURSDAY

 After lavage, infusion and more nonsenses I woke up in horrible short-sleeved hospital gown. Knowing that someone had to take clothes off  me I froze out of paranoia in same time feeling a shame, panic and wishing to die at that exact moment. How after this shock to put myself together and get out of this situation as easy as possible?! It would be better if they left me to die, why the freaken hell I wrote that nonsense on musical class?! Dammit, dammit, DAMN IT!

 I lift a blanket up to my head in order to hide my body as much as possible. I wish I had one sedative right now... or two... or five, for any case. Nurse comes and asks me how I feel. Me (nervous): "Who changed my clothes?" Nurse: "You almost died and you are asking about something that's not important right now." Me (even more nervous): "It's really important to me, I have a gymnophobia. That thought freaks me out so much that even death seems better, I'm creeped out to only think about it..." Nurse: "There was one older nurse yesterday, she did it. Not a male, if that's what scares you. Better?" Me: "Well, not so much, but better anything than nothing. Can I get my clothes back, please? I'm freezing, this is with short sleeves and I wear at least two layers of long sleeves even at summer." Nurse: "Because of hidding the scars? We had already seen your arms, we had seen scars on them. Wait for doctor, he will tell what we'll do next, I am here to see how are you." Me: "I am fine, it's just too cold in here." Nurse: "Is this room colder than forest in the middle of February?" Me: "It is to me. Can I get some sedative?" Nurse: "Yesterday is from your system taken amount equal to sixty pills, plus half liter of alcohol, and now you want us to give you the same thing that brought you here? That would be bad idea now."

Doctor (entering): "How is the patient?" Nurse: "She says she's cold, panics because she's changed into hospital gown and asks for sedatives." Doctor (to me): "Weren't there too much of sedatives yesterday? Should we bring one more blanket?" Me: "Can I get back my jacket or trackshirt or anything, maybe all I wore yesterday? I feel terible in this, I can't calm down if I don't wear my clothes." Doctor: "You'll get bottom parts of your clothes, upper parts not yet because of infusion." Me: "Then take it off, nothing is wrong with me." Doctor: "You tried to kill yourself, how can you say nothing is wrong with you?" Me: "I didn't try to kill myself, I just overdosed. Let's say... that I used pills and alcohol for a while to create certain sensations, I kinda got addicted to that. You get what I mean?" Doctor: "I would probably believe it if it's not two boxes we are talking about, no one takes two boxes as a drug." Me: "Yes, but my body is used to dose of 30... On Tuesday I had smaller dose, I got worried as there was no reaction, that's why I did this experiment with much higher dose. I see now that this was too much, I will never again take so high dose. It would be such a bummer if I took some more, it would kill me for sure." Doctor: "What about going to forest and having a disturbing conversation with your form teacher, ha? How about scars? How did they get there?" Me (trying to put myself together): ,,Oh, I have planned to go to the forest- see, I can't create any artwork for a long time and forest seems really inspirational. As dramatic events inspire the best I wanted to take these pills in the forest, to feel like I will die so I can get inspired for the new work, but situation got out of control. Didn't want to do that process at home, my parents would freak out- I was supposed to sleep hour or two, wake up and return home. Okay, I see I overcounted and now you think that I am stupid girl, the most stupid girl you have ever seen, right?" Doctor: "Is art worth losing your head for it?!" Me (laugh): ,,Art is passion and passion doesn't think about consenquences. Anyhow, whole this event inspired me and I can't wait to write some work. Nothing can be written with so much drama than writting from personal experience. Have you ever written some artwork?" Doctorv(confused): "Well… only if we count works for college. I don't know how much is that related to art. (putting himself together) I still didn't get the answer about the scars." Me: "They say that people who do that are cool! (LIE- I would never ever agree with that and claim the opposite thing, it's terrible thing and this sentence was said to get out from that situation easier, but my heart is breaking even from having to say it out loud)" Doctor: "That's not cool, that's very dangerous thing! I see you have some deeper scars as well, you can hurt your vein or something even worse!" Me (acting): "Oh… that wasn't on my mind… I will try to reduce it, I wouldn't like to end up here close to death. (of course, I would like more to end up dead. Logical.)" Doctor: "I'll come later to prescript you a therapy, I wouldn't want to keep you here too long for no reason but you still have reasons to go to psychiatrist appointment every week." Me (fake smile): "Of course, that works better for me so I won't skip lessons, I am a good student and I wouldn't like to miss something. One more thing- please don't let anyone in until you don't get this infusion out, I don't like that anyone see me in such open clothes." Doctor: "Allright, sure, but I'll let them know that you woke up." I nodded and turned to the side.

 Hard chance that he believed that story, he even told everything to my parents, but at least they agreed to let me out of the hospital with more advisory. There was no need to forbide me to go out as I didn't go anywhere but school, but that's why I had escort on my way home (I already was escorted to school in the morning for different reasons, but now it was the case after school too), medicines had to be hidden away from me, same as razor blades and similar things I could hurt myself with. Even through, of course, I was angry about all of these procedures for which they thought would work I still knew countless ways to break them. Couldn't wait to get out of the hospital and show them how foolish they are for thinking they can control me. I hate when someone wants to control me, that makes me furious and leads me to do even worse things than usually. But, everything in time.

SATURDAY

 On Sunday they let me go home. You know, psychology knownlenge is not a bad thing when it's about other people and observance of them, but that's why it's nervebreaking when someone wants to play psychologist on you while obiously knows nothing about how different personalities function and what shouldn't be told to certain people in any case. There are so many wrong things that could be said to a person who comptemplates suicide or attempted to take her own life, and ironic thing is that almost all people choose exactly these words. I knew that I'm gonna listen such a meanless sentences whole week, words which some people will say more as norm so they can think they are helping, but in these words are no honest feelings. Even if they can't help me I would appreciate at least if they were honest, I feel honesty in a person and I respect her effort with my eternal graditude.

 It's obious who was first on the list to nag at me. Instead of normal conversation came critiques and moans, but I don't actually know how is that any different than normal day. All I wanted was to get to my room, put two blankets above my head and sleep as long as possible, quietly listening two persons next to me who even in situation like this put themselves in the first place and suddenly became victims of the whole story  (I am not dead yet, stop moaning, it's not always about you). Conversation with them was much harder than talking to doctor- every sentence since leaving the hospital to finally going to bed chopped me into pieces, in the same time slapping me with reality that school maybe isn't the only place that brings me problems.

MONDAY

 After a tough weekend spent in house came awkward showing up in the school. At first lovely silence calmed me down, then several students showed up until school didn't get crowded with several hundreds souls. Those who usualy mocked me again milled around me, asking about last Wednesday. I didn't want to talk to anyone, I've had enough of conversations for my whole life.

 Serbian language class passed peacefully, just like art class and chemistry, even through I had to run to the other side of school during the breaks in order to avoid talking. However, during the math class form teacher came and I couldn't avoid conversation no matter how much I tried. I did't want to talk to anyone, but she called me outside the classroom so I couldn't avoid nagging… I mean, conversation.

 Form teacher (in front of classroom): "I got really worried! Why you didn't tell me you want to end your life, how could you do that?! Sixty pills are not a joke, I see you planned that well… where did you get the pills from? (pause from my side) Where did you find the pills?! (still pause) Don't keep silent, it's my responsibility to care about what's happening to you!" Me (looking her in the eyes): "So, only when student shows some kind of destructive or self-destructive behavior it's sign someone should help them? No, thank you for care but I don't want you to help me at all." Form teacher: "Are you mad at me? What happened?" Me: "No, not at all, just leave me alone." Form teacher: "Seems like you are not aware of the consequences of your act, this is serious and I won't let it go just like that." Me: "It's too late for everything. (heading towards stairs, she catches my arm) I can't talk anymore, for four days I had to confess both to doctors and my parents and now you want me to confess to you too! You are freaking me out, please let me to put myself together!" Form teacher: "Fine, let it be, but during the week we will have a serious conversation, is that clear?" Me: "Whatever."

 After that was class that I hate the most (and it seems like it hates me back)- P. E. class. Again I was afraid of potential mockery, shouting and humilation, wanting to hide somewhere, to be invisible those fourty-five minutes. Luckily, we had class inside and others were playing table tennis, which's table was always occupied because there were two or three departments having class inside. I used that time to think about further plans for going through this unplanned and unpredictable situation with the least bad strategy moves as possible, specially because I was decisive to really end with that without making such a stupid mistake this time. They took all pills from me, hid the alcohol (I got more in my room but only alcohol won't kill me), I have some improvisational razors for smaller cuts, really don't know what can I use of all that. I'll think later about the act, now have to plan how to play the rest. 

-

TUESDAY

 In roomy library it was plenty of space so I could get lost in my own thoughts, in the same time paying attention to lesson and pretending that everything is same as before. Rumors about my act have spread around the school, for which I didn't give a damn at all, but my brain thought only how to do it right this time.

 There's intense situation in house too, I have feeling that all of this is turning into my fault and seems like these two can blame the whole world but never will see did they do something too. We had a bad argue where I told them a lot of things that I endured for a long time, but that had opposite effect because again I ended up being a culprit and they got mad, using my weaknesses as arguments for protecting themselves. Almost every morning full of shouting, talking about problems that we can't solve, losing more and more money, problems from all sides that are becoming bigger every day. I realised it's pointless to try to make a interaction with them, in that story I am not important anymore- everyone is more important than me.

 Second class we had at form teacher's; I was told to stay after class and it's more than clear why. Form teacher (to me, after class): "Now you can't avoid conversation anymore. I thought that psychologist should be present too, that would be eventual option. I think it's better that I talk to you alone, maybe you trust me more." Me: "I have nothing to tell you, you heard everything from doctors and my parents. There is nothing new to add." Form teacher: "You told the doctor that you did that for some artistic inspiration and that you self-harm because it's cool, I can't understand that! Do you think that self-harming is fun?!" Me: "On the contrary, I told him such a awful statement to prevent him telling it my parents, I wanted it to seem like I am somebody who knows nothing about it so he wouldn't pay attention to that. Poker face, as gamblers would say. I know what am I doing with that, I am cutting myself to feel the pain or to calm down when needed, sometimes because of blood, sometimes for no specific reason. Don't tell me to stop, I don't wanna give it up." Form teacher: "You have to, you can't do that to yourself! Yesterday I asked you about the pills, where did you get them?" Me: "Medicine cabinet in my house. I secretly take pills, combine them with alcohol, wake up in pain depends of dose I took. I love that feeling of destroying myself more and more, like every painfull contraction motivates me to continue with that. Pain… so calm, in the same time wakes my dead brain, I don't want anyone to take this feeling away from me. I need it." Form teacher (worried): "You are not good at all, you should have stayed at hospital… this is not allright! You have to let emotions out, to cry, to let that pain out! If this continues I am afraid that what happened last week will repeat or… even worse… that it won't end up in a hospital but on a graveyard." Me: "I can't cry for a while, I feel dead. Don't worry for me so much, you are really too upset about nonsence." Form teacher: "Please, stop calling this a nonsence and stop telling me it's not important and terrifying when situation is alarming!" Me: "I'll go to psychiatrist, I have appointment in Thursday, that's why I am telling you not to be bothered about it." Form teacher: "And then you would lie psychiatrist just like you lied to me, your parents, doctor, who knows who else? You won't get better that way, on the contrary! Is your goal to repeat your act from last week? Is that your goal? Tell me the truth, don't lie to me anymore." Me (avoiding the answer):"And now I am a liar? I have no need to lie but I admit that sometimes I avoid to open Pandora's box for which I very well know what's inside, while others couldn't stand its content. I don't even know is there a point to spent your energy on something that can't be fixed." Form teacher: "And how do you know it can't? You didn't even tell me what is the problem and you already assume there's no solution. There is always some solution. If there's something certain we will fix it." Me: "Mental problems and gangrene have the same patern- first there is a little, unimportant place that gets sick, then it gets worse but we still don't see the problem, then the part of limbs gets destroyed and then goes further and further until body doesn't get poisoned. Even amputation can't always help, if you know what I want to say with that metafor." Form teacher: "Amputation is in this case recovery in mental institution?" Me: "Yes. After that nothing is the same, it can even get worse." Form teacher: "You can't compare these two things, recovery is good thing and it helps you to heal." Me: "You really believe that people in mental clinic usually get better? I know some examples who not only didn't get better but their condition got way worse. Can we slowly finish this conversation, bell will ring and I have to go to class..." Form teacher: "If I didn't have a class in other department I would keep you longer, but I have to prepare so I'll let you go for now. We'll continue this conversation after fifth class, I'll take you from history class so we can talk longer. Okay?" I nodded unwillingly, hurrying to get out of classroom as soon as possible.

 After biology class ie. fifth class I watched as others went upstairs. I told one person to feel free to tell that I am skipping the class, just to be sure there is no panic, and then went out through other door and hurried while no one had seen me. I didn't feel like talking about feelings and occurences, had to talk too much those days and that exhausted me, so I gave myself some time in silence at a park near the hospital. Parents waited for me nearby anyway so it would be like I am waiting for them, I could enjoy in silence at least for several minutes.

 As my father escorted me to the house my mother waited for us,  furious as hell. Mother: "Form teacher called, she says you skipped the class! Why are you running away from classes?!" Me: "I skipped the class, it's true. She asked me some questions during the break and wanted me to stay and talk with her for sixth class." Mother: "And why you didn't stay?! If she told you to stay you should stay! You'll take me to the grave, you are only making problems! Somebody is pulling you to the flower field and you are running to the thorns, you are a menace since the childhood!" Father: "Do you want me to go now and kill myself? You and these jerks will kill me, that's what you want! (five minutes of swearing and mentioning people who did him injustice)… and now you also torture me! You all torture me!" Mother: ,,It would be better if I gave birth to a stone, wish that son stayed with me instead of you- you are trash, I'll trample you for this! You will not kill yourself, I will trample you! You don't even have to live, you are useless! You spent all pills from home for nothing, there are kids who have it worse and aren't killing themselves! I can't look at people in the eyes because of you, you are a shame!" Father (hitting his chest): "What did I do to deserve this...! It's all because of (this and that), they destroyed me!" Me (listening to all of that numb and furious at same time): "Yes, it would be better if I stayed. I should have talked how I have a father who shouts, tells bunch of swearing words and talks about people who brought us here every morning for years, thus solving not a one single problem but adding a new ones, so the list goes on and on and seems like it will never get unfold. (tries to interupts me) I didn't interupt you, wait a bit! (he still doesn't listen)  Whatever you want. So, certain person is never guilty and, God forbid that someone points out he made a mistake or to be aganist him, he gets angry at that person of threatens with suicide. All plights are about him like mother and I aren't living in the same house, in same conditions, all of this is happening only to him and he is the only victim here. (he shouts at me) Can't stand the truth unless he has an use of it, which is just demonstrated. (turning to my mother) Then, I should tell how I have a mother who probabbly thinks of cigarettes more often than she thinks of me, hitting me occasionally when I do something that she doesn't like, like it was forbiden to be a child who sometimes makes some mischief, even through I never made such a radical thing but madam was simply annoyed by the fact she has to raise a child. In such a moments she told me it would be better if she gave birth to a stone, that her son would be better, that she will trample me, leave me, that she will hang herself at square and announce it was because of me… all because of child's acts, only because madam is bothered by it. To herself she is good, kind, smart, all the best, but that's why she won't miss the opportunity to put someone else down, including me. She taugh me bad eating habits which made me gain weight so everyone around me laughed at me, and then she told me to change these same habits because she doesn't like that her daughter is fat, she would prefer that I am attractive as the other girls are. She only waits for someone else to do something, never stands for herself, let alone for her child. She gets mad when I tell something to her (which she does right now while I talk as well because she keeps interupting), unlike most of mothers she doesn't give a freaken damn for me. The only thing I have tried to keep myself alive for is because of my obligation to you, but I see I have wasted nerves and time on people to whom I became annoyance and who are self-absorbed. This time you are not the victims, I am. You will be the victims when I am no longer here, that's when you can moan how much you want when you didn't know how I feel, you were more important to me than my own life and seems like you care about yourself the most, no matter how much you persuade me that I mean to you. I hear these words, I don't feel them. Care is not something you say, it's something you feel, and in this case I feel exactly nothing. (they continue to shout and threaten, I go to my room. Father allegedly takes a rope and mother doesn't let him go out, she comes to my room and yells that I am guitly for everything, repeating the same things as always. Already seen. For years and years.)"

 I couldn't wait that damn Tuesday ends and to be one day closer to my death.

-

WEDNESDAY

 After yesterday's argue atmosphere in the house was very intense, even through I remember worse mornings when those two would have terrible argues and I would hit my head because I couldn't stand the noice anymore yet having to go to school in tears, pretending that everything is fine no matter I had to endure mockery out there. Crying in the morning because of family, crying afternoon because of the school and people who mockingly stared at me on my way home. I cried, but I can't do it anymore. It became all the same to me.

 With the least interaction possible I tried to reach out school. Yesterday I drank all alcohol from my room, adding some pills they didn't know I own, so now I felt tumbling in my stomach. Maybe it's more because of the fact that I am only a marionette in that narcisstic-egoistic play which I call my family, for which I am worrying despite everything, rather than reaction on unwanted supstances in body. Normal parents wouldn't yell at child and think that everything will be fine, threats are not helping at all especially if person is likely to hurt herself. Maybe conversation would feel good but I can't handle someone who would constantly persuade me in something, give me a conditions, blackmail me, enforce something, smother me with optimism that kills me in this moment. How society don't realise that depressed people (or at least big part of it) feel even greater desperation than usual when they are surrounded with too much positivity?! For example, they see you are sad so they tell you to smile more, allegedly laugh is good for health when you are not okay, and you are not feeling like smiling, you even feel like your soul is breaking just by thinking about joy.

 I admit that I just want to talk to someone but without judgment,  without optimism, without fear, to simply confide in someone. Still, it would be in vain if I have to explain to them what to do- it isn't point of conversation, I won't command someone what to ask me. Seriously, it really sounds stupid even just thinking about it. It seems like the only way to confide is to write something that someone you don't even know will read, they are less likely to judge you and maybe are more likely to understand you, you know that at least they can't hurt you like someone you know.

 There were no major problems in math class, except for the fact that I have a headache of a zillion numbers that get lost in my head and then I cannot concentrate on any simple task, but the physical education did not go very usual.

We were getting grades for exercises so everyone present had to do what they could. When it came to me I just looked the teacher in the eyes, inhaled and quietly said: "You know well what grade I deserve. Write it down. Give me a F." Teacher (confused and a little angry): "Do at least something for D! I'm not going to write you a F now before the end of eighth grade, it will spoil your final score! You have all A's and B's in the rubric, some C's, but not a single F's; I am not crazy to be the only one to give you a negative grade." Me (out loud): "I want to get a F! I want a goddamn F! These other grades are a lie, I hate them all - I want at least one real grade in my damn rubric! Have you been complaining about me since fifth grade? Here, write it all now for all those four years, I don't give a freaken damn about the stupid score!" Teacher (shocked): "What kind of  language that?! What's wrong with you, you were not like this before... Go to a psychologist or a form teacher now! " Me: "I'm going, but you write that damn grade, I want to get the grade I deserve at least once in my life." Teacher: "How to write it when you don't deserve the negative grade? You were in class, wearing equipment, doing at least something. ." Me:" Yeah, you realized now that I was wearing equipment... weren't you angry at me because of that for these four years? Be fair to the other students who try harder than me. See, even they got annoyed, they can't look and listen to me anymore... give me that grade so I can go where you sent me." Teacher: "Tell me something honestly- are you taking any drugs or something? Your behavior has changed a lot and it was a sudden change..." Me: "No. I'm just crazy. I want a F from psysical education." Teacher: "Why do you insist so much?! I said no, go see a psychologist now!" Me: "I won't. I'll sit here until the end of the class to annoy you." He sighed and grabbed his head, while I sat by the window hoping that my request would be fulfilled, which didn't happen.

 As the others went to the locker room, he asked me: "What is the matter with you? First suicide attempt, now this... most seriously I ask you if you are taking any narcotics or if it is something else..." Me:"Why doed everyone suspect drugs, cult and love in the first place? How come no one thinks of problems in the family, at school,of a mental problem? I'm not a drug addict, unfortunately, drugs are expensive and I'm messed up enough and without them.Well, if you count alcohol and pills as drugs then I am, but I have to find a dealer after spending all the pills on a failed suicide attempt. They even took razor blades away from me to prevent me from cutting anymore, that one annoys me even more... but oh well, it's easier to find a way for it. Wish I can find a lethal dose of some substance like a piece of broken glass and stuff like that." Teacher: "You must not think like that and do this to yourself, you still have a future ahead of you" Me (look him in the eyes): "No. My future will soon disappear. There is no future. The End. (I go out and avoid further conversation ) "
 
 Big break - as the day was cold we were able to stay inside, the only problem was that the cabinet was near the main hall so I knew I had to get away before form teacher see me... Too late.

 Form teacher (approaching): "I can't believe you run away yesterday when I told you to stay! You lied to me again! What's next? I'm doing it for your sake and you're persistently causing me a problem! Why are you persistently refusing help?!" Me (trying to get away): "I don't want help, thank you but don't bother about it... Let me go." Form teacher: "I won't let you go! You are my responsibility!" Me (a bit angry):"I am my own responsibility, I don't need anyone! I am tired of everyone, just leave me alone! I can't take this anymore, everybody wants to tell me something, but I can't listen to it anymore, I just want to rest my brain! " P. E. teacher (coming back from class and talking to form teacher): "Did you hear what happened in Physics class? She yelled and asked me to give her a negative grade and insisted on it. She said her future would soon be gone, look out for her." Form teacher(to me):" Is that true? Why did you want a F when you were a great student and... yes, you are certainly thinking of repeating thing from one week ago, admit it! Look me in the eye and tell me what's going on! " Me: "No." Form teacher: "What not?"  Me (trying to escape): "No, I don't want to talk about it anymore. I have a session with a psychiatrist tomorrow in the morning, I'll tell him everything." Form teacher (holding me): "Listen, don't lie to this man tomorrow because he has to help you. Promise that you will be honest when asked and you will cooperate.For your own good. " Me (looking at her): "I promise I won't lie to a psychiatrist tomorrow." Form teacher: "Okay. I'll call tomorrow afternoon after classes to check if you have been and how it went, just in case." Me: "You don't believe me?" Form teacher (moving away): "Not after all of this. (goes upstairs)"

 The last class was music class. While others were getting grades I should have done the test because obviously it turns out like I didn't even do that test, but I pretended to know nothing. She postponed test for the next class, I knew that there will be no next class.

 In the afternoon, I took the opportunity to grab a new razor blade, collect all the money I had stored and prepare the clothes I would wear tomorrow. I put some books inside of schoolbag to avoid being suspicious if my bag is too easy, made plan where and how to go and wrote a note which I hid between pages of one notebook. Everything had to go according to plan, I knew I had time until noon to finish everything. If the circumstances were not like this and if I didn't have the pressure of my last attempt, I would probably feel the lightness again like last time, but this time I felt some fear. Will I make it? I must have a plan B if this plan fails. Ready for tomorrow, I went to sleep.

+ THURSDAY +

 Thursday is a terrible day, it reminds me of one Thursday when I came to a choir rehearsal and heard the news that one person from our school has died. I match the Friday with my own destruction, many times I overdosed on Friday, although there were other types of injuries as well. For some reason, Friday always gives me that sense of the end and makes me remember those private memories of not so pleasant things. However, as there was no other choice, I had to exchange my Friday for Thursday. Psychiatrist appoitment was scheduled for Friday. That's right, I lied. Again. Parents thought I was going to school, form teacher thought I was going to a psychiatrist and I actually went to third place.

 After my father escorted me to the hospital (which, I note again, is near the school), I was heading towards my usual route and waited for him to leave. When he was away I quickly returned, rushing to go to a nearby hotel, where I ordered a room at the last floor and paid everything in advance.

 I went to the last floor running to improve my blood circulation and to make sure that the aspirin I took this morning went to my bloodstreams (it inhibits coagulation), went into the room and left things down.While tub was slowly filled with water I took the note,put in on the table, took the razor blade and went to the bathroom. With my clothes on I dipped into warm water and made the deepest cuts I could, hoping that it would send me away from this world.Unfortunally for me there was not even half of blood I expected, so I had to change my plan to what I didn't want to do. I waited three hours to bleed to death and I knew my time was running out so I drained my clothes and cleaned up the bloody mess I had made. Until I finished all of that didn't notice it was time for the announced call. Let's suppose she called my parents, that they found out that I had lied to them all and that it was clear now what was happening to me (ie what I could do at the moment). It wasn't the best idea to answer, but I was already at the very end so I knew no one could stop me. Stupid curiosity prevailed.

 Me (answering): "And now you're going to shout at me for being a liar, right? I admit, I lied." Form teacher: "Are you trying to make me angry on purpose?! Where are you this time?" Me: "I'm near." Form teacher: "Where exactly? I'm coming, don't do anything ..." Me: "I am sorry for my behavior these days, say sorry to other teachers in my name too, as well as to department because I was maybe annoying with my stupid things. I am sorry for worrying you, I really am." Form teacher: "You have nothing to apologize to me or anyone else, just tell me where you are. Don't hurt yourself, do you understand me? " Me (crying): "Sorry again... Thanks for your effort, but nothing can be done, try to forget all this as quickly as possible. Goodbye."

 I hung up, opened the window and jumped fearlessly, as if I knew the fall would be lighter than the weight of my life before. People were slowly gathering around my corpse in still wet clothes and with wounds on my wrists. News quickly came to school, probably rejoicing all those who have had to endure me these days and who could hardly wait for this nonsense to end. I completely understand them, I was sick and tired of myself too, in their place I would strangle me just not to look at me anymore. I guess they also noticed that their environment was at least a little better, that there's a positive change. I'm sure they thought I was a damn disgusting bastard they would rather remove from their vicinity if they could, that I am only a good target for ridicule, insult, understatement, not a person.

 I, the stupid jerk unworthy of this miracle they call life, humbly admit that I am guilty and I will pay my guilt with my head, that empty head I can only hit until a possible concussion because it serves nothing more. I hate myself even more than they can't stand me, I hate the fact that I exist. I will forever be followed by that same feeling even when it is all far behind me - resentment is reduced, memories faded but self-hatred continues to kill me. The problem was in others, however much I wish to ignore that fact so I wouldn't hate them, but it has long since become my personal problem with no way out. So I came out of this dungeon- it's my personal dungeon, like a tarot card "Tower" in which people in despair fall down - there is no way out of that burning fortress, and this was my "Tower". Time will tell if my jumping out of the burning fortress was a smart move, you can interpret it however you wish. I'm dead anyway so it's all the same to me, I don't have time to think about such things.

THE END
Suzana Ristic Suza
04/01/2020