Trapped inside my flat my insulated enclave
Trapped inside the inhibitions of my anxiety riddled personality
The isolation the alienation of my life is slowly killing me
I look outside my dusty window and see a vast landscape a world with colour with beauty i want to experience to taste to devour
My anxiety disorder precludes me from regularly going outside
Only when its necessary such as attending my job or purchasing food at the shops
Other than that I remain ensconced in my tiny flat hidden away
Turning down requests from friends for nights out with this onerous anxiety that never abates or relents
I desire to be rid of this pernicious social anxiety
A debilitating anxiety that renders me paralysed with nervousness when I’m outside of my safety zone of my flat
I cant go out anymore hence i refrain from answering incessant messages from old friends
I hide with all the lights out not wanting to communicate with another soul that’s how horrendous the anxiety gets
I suffer from regular humiliating panic attacks when I’m in public
So I retreats further and further inwards into these protracted states of isolation
Theres initially comfort in the isolation but the loneliness is painful
I have nobody to confide with nobody to hug to kiss to feel the torture of my disorder the loneliness gets so bad I contemplate suicide
Its 8:00 am i have awoken at a ungodly early hour on a clement august Saturday in my old bed in my old house on this supposedly momentous day. Its the day of my fathers wedding day his second wedding nearly 10 years since the traumatic suicide of my mum. 10 years ago my mum killed herself in this same house me and daddy discovered her hanging from a light fixture in the living room. I can still smell the pungent odour of death and despair in our haunted living room.
Today though is a happy joyous occasion for my father or daddy as i affectingly call him. Its a ecstatic day for daddy who after years of withering away in loneliness after years of being stricken with grief has found love. I am happy for him though my fractured neurotic mind is permeated with negative emotions. For weeks months years I’ve been severely depressed to the point of seriously contemplating suicide. I decided in my self indulgent self obsessed mind to kill myself approximately several weeks proceeding this wedding. I don’t want to infringe or in any way despoil daddy’s happiness. Today is also on top of the severe suicidal depression this wedding day for months and weeks has been filling me with panic inducing anxiety. I am cursed with a untreated social anxiety disorder which means i eschew public events such as wedding birthdays or the majority of social functions in favour of being alone in the enclave of my humble abode. Hence this wedding has been giving me vexation for weeks i cant forgo attending my fathers second wedding what will family and friends say. I have to hide my anxiety my melancholic proclivities for an entire day and hope and pray that I don’t suffer a harrowing panic attack. Fortunately I haven’t been asked to speak in the post wedding reception so that relive is alleviating my anxiety.
Laying horizontal nervously tucked inside my old black gothic duvet covers not wanting to vamoose from the cosy warmth of old duvet. Last night I slept maybe an hour of sleep that’s all the acute anxiety that’s been building up for weeks reached a fever pitch last night as I became cognisant of the torture of attending a wedding. A day of unrelenting anxiety having awkward conversations with distant relations having to hide my sadness my deleterious anxiety. Last night my hands were shacking furiously i kept tapping my fingers against the palm of my hands then scratching my legs in a peculiar manner to soothe my stress. Totally unable to fall asleep just being asphyxiated with worry with the fear of a panic attack. I don’t want to reveal my social phobia its why i have reluctantly attended this wedding. I am elated at my father finding love in his early 50’s i want him to live a long happy enriching existence the kind of life i will never experience. However the joy is negated by the tsunami of dysphoria and angst that circulating in my impaired consciousness.
I hear the distant echoes of my father his best man his life long friend Stephen getting ready for the wedding. Stephen stayed last night we got drunk together until we decided to retire to our bedrooms around midnight. Last night drinking beer with my daddy and his old friend was a pleasant experience to reconnect with my daddy and a childhood family friends with the euphoria of alcohol. Today though I’m going to be suffocated with a assortment of humans its going to be pure hell a day trapped in purgatory. I gaze intensely at the familiar surroundings of my old room with my single bed childhood bed. This room hasn’t been transformed into a office daddy has preserved it perfectly. Has quiet sentimental character meant he diligently preserved my room as a memento of my childhood. The posters of my favourite bands and literary heroes were decorated throughout my room. Posters of joy division, Kate Bush Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath were plastered over the magnolia painted walls. I stared for hours at these posters with melancholic eyes on this celebration of the scared institution of marriage and love.
Travelling back to my hometown staying in my suburban house spending extensive time with my father hasn’t dissuaded me from my plan to kill myself. The wedding though has delayed the inevitable suicide none of the exaltation of love would persuade me to stay alive i want death I want to end the torture of being a twenty something being afflicted with depression. In my pink silky jimjams with my legs shacking vehemently i am now ready to get out off my old single bed.
With trepidation I remove the black pristine duvet now i sit upright on the edge of my bed. Spending at least half an hour perusing my phone looking at my twitter feed needing a temporary distraction. I watch an array of entertaining videos on YouTube to distract me from the nightmare of attending a wedding. Putting down my distraction device i use as a crutch when I’m trapped in uncomfortable unfamiliar terrifying social scenarios. I stand on my two hind legs and make my bed making sure my bed looks immaculate. This learned fastidious habit is a way of abating the dysmorphia the restlessness of my abnormal personality. Then after several minutes of assiduously making my bed i saunter over to the vacant bathroom to brush my unsightly teeth and wash my pallid face. Before i venture downstairs to eat a paltry breakfast meal if i can handle eating with a million thoughts pulsating round my emaciated body. I brush wearily with my new fangled electric toothbrush. All the while averting my gaze from the dreaded unforgiving bathroom mirror. Then i wash my face by applying a soaked flannel to my face. This act washes away the cobwebs from my mind i feel fully awake before i apply a exfoliant that removes the grease the muck the scum from my visage. I wash again as my face is tingling as its revitalised after another sleepless night. Now i can venture downstairs to confabulate with my daddy and his best man whilst satiating our appetites with toast and coffee.
I’m not here I’m already dead
I meander aimlessly through life floating like a ghost
Nobody looks at me pays a modicum of attention to me
Am I alive am a phantom is there blood in my veins
I feel numb devoid of vitality no colour in my pallid complexion
I have stopped smiling stop exhibiting any emotion
My ghost face never breaks no emotion is portrayed in my haunted visage
Soon in the next few weeks i will hopefully become a ghost become a distant lamentable memory
I never go out anymore other to traverse back and forth from my employment
I stay ensconced in my flat never answer the phone
The curtains remain closed no sunlight no radiating beams of light enter my residence
I float in my flat like a dead soul wanting the sweet blissful release of death
I’m not anywhere i am lost in the limbo
My only dreams are to drift away to die
My eyes are screaming for this harrowing ordeal of life to be over
I am a ghost a mute emotionless subhuman creature waiting for my forlorn desolate languid life to be over
No soul hears my departed screams of emotional torment
No one cares i am already dead waiting patiently for my final day
Suicide I’d beckoning me i want it so badly to become nothing to be worms food
Gone in the head the emotion runs dry
I’ve checked out of the world
The depression has destroyed me left me a shattered shell of a man
Friends family are discarded I never go out no point
My eyes dead no live no exuberance just a listless dead expression
I have ceased smiling laughing I have this permanent stoic robotic countenance
My body hunched over i refrain from making any eye contact
I walk past people like they don’t exist
All the colour all the beauty all the rich tapestry of being alive of being human
Its rendered meaningless by my emotional dead state of mind
Life is dripping away i am lost in the crevasses of my fractured mind
Lost in the interior dead space lost to the wilderness lost to clinical depression
I don’t care anymore don’t care if I’m alive or dead
Nothing matters friendship family falling in love are pointless as I descend into the abyss of my madness
I have stopped caring about friends neglecting important enduring friendships
Stopped exhibiting any emotion as these dead haunted eyes are the windows on my broken soul that wants to die that wants to not exist feeling nothing
In the mire of my terminal depression and deep alienation i have sick fantasies
I fantasise a myriad of ways i could kill myself
I envision slashing my wrists having a tsunami of blood spraying on the walls
Seeing my body seething in pain with a profusion of blood in a grisly end to a pathetic lamentable life
There are other dark visions of my untimely demise
I think about overdosing on a pernicious cocktail of opiates
Seeing my body drift away into permanent slumber into the vast nothingness
To end this torture of being alive being afflicted with a daily onslaught of anxiety and suicidal depression
The most preferable manner of suicide I have surmised is a slow hanging
I want the pain I want to suffer in a final cat of brutal machoism
First i will lacerate my body with a multitude of wounds then i will hang from my ceiling
I want to die slowly with the final minutes listening to ethereal classical music to send me off
I imagine not being discovered for weeks possible months
As my corpse rots with my body only being discovered by neighbours with the pungent odour of my decaying body
My end will be even sadder as it will highlight the depths of my alienation my isolation
This is how foresee dying and being found by a neighbour or a distant friend who will be horrified by the macabre scene of my flat asa my gnarled decomposing body is hanging from the ceiling after months leaving behind only a succinctly worded suicide note
i am writing you this note to elucidate the reasons why I’m taking this drastic action. By the time you read this note you be reading it with tears in your eyes as you will be grieving the death the suicide of your only child. I plan to kill myself by hanging my body in my lonely desolate room in my lonely haunted flat.
Before I articulate the various reasons why i cant bare to stay alive anymore i want to thank you deeply for being a kind loving parent. I want to thank you for showering me with affection for giving me the impetus to venture outside of maidstone and spread my wings. You loved in your reserved introvert idiosyncratic style. Despite the fact you found it immensely onerous to show affection you loved me hugged me never hit me never made me feel less as a women.
After mum died killed herself in harrowing circumstances I changed forever there were emotional scars I incurred from losing my mum that would never heal. From that day on i would never heal adequately greave for my mums death. Indeed we never conversed or confronted the death the loss after her funeral. My mum our blinding shower of ethereal beauty left us forever we never sought out therapy. She haunted our home and me her presence lingered on. The pain the wounds were never addressed hence the pain the fucking god damn pain spread throughout my body like a vicious cancer infecting every organ every facet of my life. Following her death i became severely depressed i suffered from habitually panic attacks and was afflicted with a crippling social anxiety disorder. I never divulged this to another soul just like mum and yourself i kept my pain my trauma my demons hidden in the depths of my fractured consciousness.
As i matured from a precious adolescent into a young women these emotional demons didn’t abate rather the depression metastasised into a more acute mental illness. I refused to seek professional help refused to confide in a friend or speak to you about my psychological issues. The shame the aversion to being vulnerable precluded from ever baring my broken soul to anybody even a loving father. In university surrounded by my uni comrades i kept my psychosis a secret. I made excuses when I suffered another panic attack when I was suicidal I said i was ill that i had contracted a stomach bug or that i had a acute migraine. These convincing excuses kept me from revealing my wounds kept me from being emotional vulnerable. The semblance of normality the mask stayed on my porcelain face. However underneath the mask lurked a dark abyss of sadness. The anxiety grow and exacerbated as i found even venturing outside a onerous torturous task. I became increasingly withdrawn and alienated as i had nobody to talk to about my illness no real outlet to vent my fury other than my poetry and short stories.
The trauma of mums suicide was never addressed or resolved i never healed from that harrowing day. My childhood innocence was lost when i was 13 forced to look death in the eyes forced to look in the listless empty eyes of my mum it broke me as a person. I suffered from recurring nightmares in which my subconscious made me relive that heart wrenching day repeatedly in my dream world. In my personal life the depression grow worse i began to have unremitting thoughts visions of my demise. I fantasised about dying leaving this forsaken planet ending the pain of being me. To mitigate these dark sick thoughts i began to self harm to lacerate my arms with a blade of glass. Again i kept this sick practise hidden from my social circle i surreptitiously cut my arms. This tendency I started at the age of 16 prevented me from descending further into greater depths of abject despair.
At the age of 23 i cant take the pain anymore i want to die i want death. Everyday i wake up go to my profession in a publishing house and have to endure anxiety of interacting with strangers. I have to face a cruel world and the depression is incessant it never leaves me. I have become dead on the inside feeling this overwhelming emotional numbness that only engenders a feeling of sadness. For months i have tried to convince myself find a slither of hope in my pathetic life to not die. I am a failure i am incapable of cultivating romantic relationships I’m a failure as a writer. I can recall having these grandiose illusions of becoming a eminent literary figure who’ve creature works are revered for there linguistic brilliance. Instead all my writing my short stories my novels my poetry have been resoundingly rejected my a multitude of publishers. I am a forgotten soul cast out into the dust heap left to rot to wither and die in perennial alienation. I had a YouTube channel in which i pontificated about my long term battle with untreated depression with social anxiety. Video after video with my homely face obscured under a mask i poured out my ravaged soul made myself vulnerable. Barely anybody watched these emotionally cathartic videos again i failed in another medium of creative expression. This time i failed as a YouTube vlogging about my depression my abnormal proclivities nobody cared. Just like nobody cares when i die other than you who never stopped caring for me.
I want to conclude this letter by saying how profoundly sorry i am for being a shitty daughter for not contacting you as often as i should have. I’m sorry for the pain i will inflict you with for killing myself tonight. I sorry i just cant take it anymore i want to end the torture and disappear forever into nothingness to become dust to cease to be. Please bury me next to mums gravesite and play Elgar’s cello concerto played effusively by Jacqueline du pre at my funeral. That is my only request that I hope you will adhere to my final demands for my burial and funeral service.
Goodbye daddy please don’t forget me from your loving daughter aria 💔💔💔
My body is permeated with disquiet
My thoughts are cloudy my mind racked with fear
I cant control my breathe as I breathe erratically when I’m in public
People stare at me the anxiety intensifies i fall down a black hole of sadness
On the outside i never feel safe I’m alone terrified of a panic attack
I take long breathes to maintain my breathing cycle
I diligently try to maintain a veneer if sanity whilst on the inside I’m crying I’m screaming
In the midst of my injurious anxiety i yearn i ache for the euphoria of solitude
This pernicious anxiety disorder is detrimentally affecting the quality of my life
I cant cultivate romantic relationships due to my acute social phobia
I habitually turn down ardent calls for nights out with close confidants over the anxiety i will endure on a night of socialising of fraternising
I am alone in the darkness unable to articulate to vent my pain of this anxiety
I get pernicious attacks on a monthly basis
Its a horrifying ordeal when i am afflicted with a random panic attack
I cant breathe i collapse to the floor i think I’m dying
Then there’s a profusion of tears i secrete from my eyes after the hell of a panic attack its constant never ending torture I face day after day unable too function unable to live a full gregarious ebullient life