Daddy Please Don’t Shed Any Tears At My Funeral

Daddy don’t cry don’t mourn for when I’m gone
As the priest reads my funeral eulogy don’t lament my passing
As the music reverberates in the cavernous church stay stoic and austere
Please don’t cry don’t mourn for a life bereft of meaning or purpose

Soon i will be gone the black dog of depression is poisoning me
Its close till I hang myself just my mum
I no longer can bare the hell of being alive
This world is a cauldron of suffering and my soul is being crushed in the flames in nightmare of life

Theres no love no hope the emotion has vanished from me
Nobody cares for me so daddy don’t you grief my loss
Im a vapid waste of a person who’s destined doomed to be a mere statistic a sad story
Soon i will fade into the long night of death and dissolve into dust

Daddy its over the love the promise the lustrous bright lights of this world have disappeared
Now at the age of 23 i want death i desire to cease breathing
Theres nothing left to live for the flickering lights of my soul will shortly be extinguished in the brutal finality of death
Don’t want you to spend days weeks months years ravaged with despair at my untimely suicidal passing forget at me my life is a insipid endeavour

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My Mums Suicide Elegy

Its been 6 years exactly since that dreaded fateful day when me and my dad discovered my mums lifeless haunted body hanging from the top of our living room doorway. The memory the images the wounds of that day blight my mind. I can recall arriving home feeling this teenage weariness after a long day at school followed by a tedious cello lesson and seeing the grisly sight of my mum hanging their. On that day I collapsed into a heap on the floor unable to fathom the reality that my mum killed herself. My father stood there static in a state of paralysis we never cried he held his tears inside of him like a stereotypical repressed english man.

Even though its been 6 long years i can vividly recollect every moment of that day the tears the police and coroner showing up. The contrasting reaction of my mums friends to my dad who descended upon our home to console me and my dad.

Today though in the seclusion of my bedroom I’m carrying on a sacred private tradition of dedicating the evening to my mums memory. I’m sitting on the floor of my bedroom with a variety of exemplary iconic cello compositions being played on my Bluetooth speakers. I have in my meticulous manner rolled several cannabis joints and have a large bottle of scotch whisky all of which will be devoured throughout this evening. Its 7 o’clock in the evening time to begin the proceedings time to pay homage to my wonderful mother who died so tragically. With tears in my eyes as the Elgar cello concerto reverberates across the walls of my intimate eclectically decorated room i down two shots of premium whisky. Then i begin smoking my potent psychoactive joint that hopefully will elicit the happy memories of my mum from my childhood. Then i garb a hold of my suicide note which was her final thoughts in which she delineated the reasons why she had kill herself. My hands are shacking as i begin reading this crinkled torn final reflections on life on death on the hell of living with a untreated secret mental illness. I wipe a tear from my left cheek and blow my nose and begin to slowly read my mums forlorn suicide elegy.

“ Dear family,

I am writing this letter to tell you why i killed myself. If your reading this you probably have discovered my dead body hanging bereft of life. I want to say I’m profoundly sorry for the pain for the misery my selfish self destructive decision has engendered. You have every right to be upset and enraged by my decision to terminated my time on earth. Please understand you have no idea whats its like enduring depression have this hurricane of sadness swirling around your mind day after day month after month. Having this dysmorphia with life having no way of articulating the despair that has slowly poisoning me for years. The shame of my illness hiding my emotional torment behind a simpering smile. As i write this note i am glancing over a collection of my photographs seeing the fake plastic smile that conceals a hidden illness. The smile the laughing behind those eyes i am dying i am screaming on the inside desperate to disclose my sickness that’s rotting me from the inside. I’m sure you are completely ignorant of my sporadic bouts of depression which i mask with my gregarious effervescent personality. I have since i was a teenager become adept at masking this illness never crying in public always making up elaborate excuses to prevent my secret my shame from ever getting out. You are entirely unaware that on numerous other instances i have planned to kill myself and backed out at the last moment. Even going as far to compose a verbosely worded note then destroying the evidence when at the last moment i found a reason to carry on existing. Now though its too late there’s no reason to stay alive even your unconditioned eternal love won’t save me from the jaws of death. I want death i want to cease breathing oxygen the hell of being me being 40 living the terminal loneliness the torture has killed me. I cant speak to anybody I’m unable to be vulnerable to divulge my condition even to my father my beautiful angelic daughter my long suffering kind husband the love of my life. I’m sick of it sick and tired of the piss and shit of life of i cant endure the cancer of depression anymore. I’m cant sleep i drink to excess I’ve turned down vehement requests from my closets comrades for nights out when I’m at home all alone a ocean of sadness flows from my eyes. Then in your empathetic company i hide the sadness put on a plastic persona of sanity whilst I’m drowning inside all the time. I know I’m a stupid selfish bitch I’m sick I’m dying from my depression its left bereft of joy unable to function. Aria my beautiful precious daughter know that i love you and that I’m crying looking at images of you as a precious baby. Aria if you feel ill please I’m begging speak to somebody to a friend to a doctor don’t hide repress the dark thoughts don’t live in purgatory like me. Micheal the love of my life don’t blame this on yourself. I never stopped loving you gave me a home you gave me the strength to carry on but now the pain is too severe to endure. I want you to never forget me cherish the seldom joyous memories we shared and please I’m imploring to not commit a deleterious act please don’t commit suicide. Love you forever i have to die I have to end the endless nightmare of being me”

My face was soaked in sadness as I concluded my mums despairing final thoughts. The cannabis intensified the melancholic sensation of today reading my mums suicide lament. The Elgar cello concerto hit the crescendo as the cello combined with the cannabis and my reading of the elegy rendered unconsolable. I cried I held my head in my hands as i perused a collage of my mums most transcendent images. There was no anger just a deep seething regret at the universe for taking my mum. I had determined to spend the rest of the evening getting high listening to my mums treasured music this is the day i pay tribute to the women who brought me into this cruel unforgiving world.

Death

Laying prostrate almost comatose in my bed dreaming of death
Sick and twisted thought are ruminating in my mind
I cant move from the pain of this depression i want death i want to be nothing
I am already dead as the emotion has been vanquished from my body as this dead sensation permeates my entire being

Dreaming of all the myriad of ways of dying
Dreaming of dying in my sleep to never awaken to a cold world that has forsaken me
I have nothing no love no real family friends never call anymore
All i have is the fantasy of not existing

I lay horizontal for hours with a body burdened with sadness musing about the concept of death to not exist
To be a dream a distant fading memory to be pure nothingness to be dust
I want death there’s no reason to carry on existing living so listlessly trudging through life in endless cycles of abject despair
In my darkest dreams i take the sweet pill of suicide and get taken away by a dark shadowy masked figure he takes me away from the land of the living into the serenity the nirvana of death

2AM Phone Call To The Salvation Army Crisis Hotline

Its 2 am in the morning my hands are shacking covered in blood from another masochistic bout of self harm. I’m laying on my kitchen floor with a razor blade in my right hand my left arm looks ravaged with several vertical deep lacerations on my underarm. My pain receptors are dulled and numb from the excess of whisky i have devoured throughout this lonesome evening. I cant feel the pain of my wounds that will happen tomorrow on top of a punishing hangover. I’m in a dark place at my wits end seriously considering ending my life. Elgar cello concerto echoes throughout the thin walls of my flat playing on my Bluetooth speakers. As I hear the heart wrenching sublime sound of Jacqueline du pre playing the cello with adroitness tears stream down my ashen face devoid of beauty.

I’m crying uncontrollable unable to control my breathing. Breathing in and out at a frantic rate I repeat the phrase in my hand I can’t breathe i cant breathe for several minutes. I feel like death the dread is overpowering the suicidal thoughts overpower my intoxicated mind. I’ve spent all Saturday with the curtains shut in my flat and wearing my crimson silk pyjamas. I commenced drinking my whisky and coke cocktail around 2 in the afternoon wanting to nullify the pain i been subsisting with for the previous several weeks. I cant bare it anymore I’m a 23 year old living alone living with severe depression with a impairing social anxiety disorder and a myriad of other mentally ill symptoms indicative of a long term untreated psychosis. I have neglected important pivotal friendships due to the severity of my social anxiety and the depression has compounded my desolate suicidal disposition. I feel like such a fucking loser a freak who’s been condemned to a life of abject misery and being sequestered from the human race from the kindness and love of strangers due to my disorders.

In my paralytic condition wanting to end my life with the razor blade hovering perilously above my wrist i take a last chance and call the suicidal army crisis hotline. I can’t call any of my family or a distant friend who are still lodged in my iPhone contact list who i still consider a friend. To bare my soul to unload my desperate fragile mental state to somebody I know fills my heart with dread. Especially calling them at 2 in the morning in my delirious drug frenzied state. Throughout the years i have carefully concealed the depths of my pain my anxiety my suicidal predilections my self harm from anybody with whom who knows me who cares for me. Hence i conclude to call of the kind soft spoken sympathetic listening operators with whom I’ve spoken with on numerous occasions on the past several years. This time though i want to die i need to be reminded given any reason why I should remain alive to be part of the living.

My hands are shacking profusely my lips are quivering snot is flowing from my nose I’m a drunken mess wanting to hear a solemn voice in my hell. Dialling the number still on the kitchen floor slumped in a drunken stupor actually terrified of speaking to a volunteer and divulging my desire to end my life. The number rings three times a volunteer answers my forlorn call with a hushed dulcet voice that immediately assuages my anxiety. “Hello how can i help you”
She initiates our conversation. There’s a awkward silence of 10 seconds before I gather myself before i control my breathe and blow my nose.
“ hello mam i want to kill myself i cant stand the pain anymore I’ve got a razor blade and i want to slash my wrists.” My voice cracks i can hardly speak as i utter these words and pronounce my thoughts to another soul. The listener responds with stereotypical calmness trying diligently to appease me to convince that not take a deleterious action. “ please put down the razor blade try to calm down how long have you been feeling suicidal or depressed.” She utters in a unwavering calm manner as i acquiesce to her simple demand placing the blade on my blood stained lilo kitchen floor. I respond opening myself to another human being allowing for once an person into my inner world.
“ I have been living with this depression for years living with anxiety but for the past several months the hurt of existing has grown more severe. Everyday i think about killing myself. There’s nobody in my life who cares about me i am alone in the darkness i cant endure it anymore i just want to end the pain of my pathetic life” I break down and become inconsolable with rivers if sadness cascading down my face . My hands collapse into my tear drenched face I’m still encamped on the floor with arms coated in my blood i wait patiently for a response to my verbose declaration of my fractured psyche.
“Please calm down I’m listening to you understand there are people I’m certain in your life who care for you. I’m sure you have friends and family who would be devastated if you committed suicide” There was a uncomfortable silence as the amiable listener waited for my response. I responded barely able to articulate my thoughts with a voice stammering and quivering.
“Tttankyou for your www words i jjust nneeded somebody to talk to i know i need help that i need therapy i need to speak to my friends about my dire emotional state” I was amazed at how lucid i was in in my intoxicated suicidal mind space.

The listener realised her compassionate words had dissuaded me from ending my life that this was a despairing cry for help in the bleak hours of a Sunday morning. She concluded our brief conversation have sage words of advice.
“ I’m promising you that you’ll feel better in the morning. You’ve taken the first steps in dealing with your mental illness actually speaking to another person showing that bravery. I’m asking you to talk about your depression your anxiety with your mother and father they care for you and then take the next scary steps of speaking with a therapist who will ameliorate your condition. I’m proud of you that you put down the razor blade and can you please promise me you wont end your life” She concluded as I responded tentatively
“Thank you for hearing for taking my call for listening attentively to my lamentable words. Its so cathartic to talk to a stranger to realise I’m not alone in this cold world that somebody cares about me. Thank you mam I promise i wont kill myself”
We then in unison said our goodbyes as i terminated by 2am call to the Salvation Army Suicide hotline. I sat there for minutes afterwards on the floor with a strange feeling of elation pulsating in my body. I got up sauntered languidly to the bathroom and removed the dried blood stains from my hair and in my listless drunken stupor applied a profusion of disinfectant to my self infected wounds. Still with my pain receptors numbed from the excessive of alcohol i felt no pain. Walked to my bedroom deciding to mop up the excess of blood on my kitchen floor tomorrow.

I lay in my bed for minutes feeling like a human being that matters the loneliness had temporarily dissipated in that pivotal early morning interaction.

He Shuddered When He Glimpsed My Face

I entered the door to my block of flats
A stranger a neighbour glimpsed my hideous visage and shuddered with horror
As I entered the door he was leaving and I perceived from his repulsed reaction to my deformed face
He looked at me with terror with derision

I was so profoundly embarrassed my our fleeting interaction
Running up the stairs to my flat entrance
Wanting to be far away from the vilifying stares of strangers
I entered the safety of my secluded flat and felt a tumult of self loathing pulsate in my body

The hell of being me living in this ugly unsightly body
Having a face deformed and malformed devoid of any beauty
Its why I’m alone living without love or sex
Its why a alluring stranger saw my face and felt a consternation just glimpsing my visage for a few seconds

For hours after this awkward encounter I fell into a deep depression
To assuage my inner torment i consumed a copious amount of alcohol to numb the pangs of sadness ruminating in my fractured soul
I then proceeded to cut my arms with a razor blade to feel something
This masochistic injurious act help to imbue me with some humanity after that brief agonising encounter had engendered in me a feeling of worthlessness that i was a grotesque freak discarded by society

I Drank The Poison

Last night i was afflicted with a harrowing evocative nightmare
In this chilling nightmare i found myself being administered a noxious concoction that would end my life
A women clothed in white advised me to consume the deadly cocktail
I acquiesced to her vehement demands and downed it wanting to end the oppressive pain of being alive

In this vivid dark prophecy of my untimely demise the poison only worked when i fall into a deep slumber
Upon drinking the suicide cocktail i immediately regretted my deleterious decision to end my life
I pleaded with this mysterious women in white to help me stay alive
She told me in this white room there were only 2 options to stave off death to remain awake for 24 hours or too vomit out the deadly chemicals from my fragile body

I concluded to stay awake in my fanatic condition
Rushing home at a expeditious pace wanting desperately to be alive to expunge the toxic concoction from my body
In this long vivid dream I consumed a copious amount of coffee in a diligent attempt to remain alive
I pleaded begged god to keep from the savage jaws of death in the end of the dream I miraculously survived then i awoke with terror and a profusion of sweat on my anxiety laden body

I Wish I had £100,000 To Spend On My Body

My body haggard and worn down
My bones ache as I walk
I glare into the mirror see all the cracks the flaws
A body falling apart at the seams wrinkles on my body a face devoid of beauty

Eyes listless haunted with years of loneliness and depression
Lips pale and pallid that once were lustrous now are cracked with the ravages of time
Hair unkept with a profusion of split ends a visual metaphor of my weary fractured mind

I gaze for minutes at my saggy diminutive flat breasts I’m so unattractive so unappealing
The tired bags underneath my haunted bloodshot eyes that radiate sadness
My fingers shake with disquiet at this repulsive sight of my grotesque physical appearance
I drop to the floor unable to bare the sight of my ghostlike image as tears cascade down my face

I want to be alluring to be regarded as a enticing creature
I want perfect voluptuous breasts that catch the attention of beguiling males physical specimens
I want immaculate ivory teeth devoid of flaws
I want to be rid of this pernicious self loathing to never have this all consuming social anxiety I want to look in the mirror and not be overcome with suicidal desires