I got home and closed the garage door behind me by remote from within the car. I couldn't get out of the car. I sat there until the light switched itself off and left me in the darkness. I cried and cried, as if I could never stop. I could start the car again, open my window. It's a small insulated garage. How long would it take? Hours probably. I had a full tank of gas. Check.
Nothing loomed in my head as big as the issue at hand. I wanted to run away. And I could hear her voice saying "You don't have to do anything about it right now".
I could hear fragments of our conversation.
"And you think we are drifting?"
"I'll get rid of it. All of it. There. See, no more problem. So why do you still want to talk to THEM?"
"You think I am threatening you.... You'd probably find it hard to see it any differently."
"How else would I see this?"
"Why are you so frightened?.... What is so wrong about me speaking to THEM?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine."
"See, you're saying you're fine when you are obviously not fine."
"For being such a mess..."
"That's alright. I don't mind."
"How are you going to take care of yourself tonight?"
"It doesn't matter."
"See, when you say it doesn't matter, it shuts down what the other person can say...."
"If there is an earthquake, wouldn't you prepare for it? Would you just not think about it?"
"You have no idea.... you have no idea.... "
I wanted to go into the house and down every last pill I have hoarded. 2 months' worth. 6-7 times over the lethal dose. Would that do it I wondered? Probably not. I've survived so many, I'm sure by the twisted hands of fate I would not die. I'd wake up again in the Intensive care unit with a tube down my throat, a machine breathing for me and the voices of nurses talking about me as if I were dead instead of waking from my deep coma. I'm not dead, I'm not dead, I want to scream and throw a tantrum. I'm fucking not dead, and I want to tear out the ventilator, pull off all the tubes attached to me, but I'd be weakened. I'd never have the energy to do that at the time. No. I won't let this happen again. They have no idea about the depth of despair I am in when I come to the realisation of my own cowardly act. Of failing.
I'd jump again, but this time from a taller building. I have access to a tall building where I work.
Maybe I'd use a rope. But I don't know how to tie a knot. No, too risky.
Jumping. That's probably the safest.
Those were the things on my mind.
Today the tears have dried. I feel detached, as if my body is not connected to my head. I see myself walking down the corridoor and I want to scream at her - hey, your hair is a mess, pull those pants up, and don't shuffle your feet as if you were some zombie, or simply too lazy to walk properly. I want to yell at this familiar yet strange person - lift your head up, look where you are going. She doesn't meet anyone's eyes, and no one looks into hers.
Today the tasks at work are piled as high as Mt Everest. It'd take so much fitness and energy to climb it. I don't have the fitness nor the energy right now. I've already puked twice. Frostbite will probably sink in and I'd lose a limb. I won't make it to the top, and my body will fall by the wayside. Not the first. Definately not the first. Casualties of the great Mt Everest.
The world has changed so drastically. In less than 20 hours the entire world has turned upside down and inside out. My mind is still floating in this fluid filled space, trying to find its lost body. I had to shove a muffin down my throat this morning because I haven't eaten since yesterday noon. Why do I still bother? Why?
I think I'll just leave. No one will notice, or care. Maybe I'd just go to sleep and when I wake up, I'd realise that this was all just a bad dream. Just a bad dream. Wouldn't that be nice?