Chains

I wake up all of a sudden. I blink slowly, staring at the white ceiling. Judging from the intensity of the light in my room, I realize it’s morning already. Turning around, I find my cellphone and it reads 6:57AM.

Sigh... in three minutes the clock alarm will ring. I get up from my bed and I stand with my head between my hands, rubbing my face gently. I can feel it already; it will be one of those days.

And then I feel the pain again, the piercing pain in my chest. Sometimes it feels like a rock, other times like venom. I push my hand against it, I want to make it stop. To cut my insides with a knife and throw this rock out, to vomit it, anything it takes, just so it won’t hurt anymore.

The alarm rings and I hit the "Stop button“.

My head feels cloudy and my eyes hurt a bit, I haven’t had a good a good night of sleep in ages. I sit in my chair, open up my laptop and I begin my daily ritual: browsing the social networks and reading the news. It’s 7:15, time to get ready for work.

I brush my teeth, my face, then I dress myself up and I get out the door at 7:30, just in time to catch the bus.

At 7:40 the bus leaves as always, I put my earphones in, press "Play“ on my phone, listening to the same old songs and I fall asleep for the duration of the ride, waking up once in a while.

Forty minutes later I arrive at work, this building in the middle of nowhere. It’s sunny outside, skies are blue, birds are chirping and all that, however I’m not feeling any of it.

With a mopey look on my face, I walk in the office, saying "Good morning“ to all my colleagues.

Everyone responds to my greeting, I head to my desk where I open my computer and start setting everything up for this work day.

I look around to see my colleagues, each one with its own morning ritual and suddenly I feel the anxiety kicking in. My heartbeat rises, breathing intensifies and chest pounds harder than ever.

This is my everyday feeling.

I breathe deep and start working on my tasks. Nothing out of the ordinary. Every 5 minutes I look in the corner of my eye to see if the colleagues I usually hang out with, left for a coffee break yet.

They ask each other with loud voices if they’re ready to leave, yet they never asked me. After all these months, I still don’t feel like I truly belong here, yet I’ve started to accompany them on breaks or hangouts, whether they liked it or not. I guess my shyness never really bothered them, as most of the times I just sit there and smile at their jokes and stories.

I’ve bought my usual coffee, it’s not something I particularly enjoy, but it alright.

Again, the same stories from them about their days went by, TV shows they watch and so on. Of course, the question about why I’m so quiet comes up.

I never know what to answer, I got used to just shrug my shoulders, smile and hope they’ll change the subject.

People wandered sometimes what’s going on in my head. Sometimes they just thought that I’m just too stupid to say something or that I’ve behaving like an anti-social.

Whatever, I don’t care.

But sometimes I do.

It bothers me, this incapacity of mine to control my feelings and thoughts. I’ve always changed my mind about relatively small stuff, but when it comes to my inner thoughts, it’s a mess.

I’ve never felt so confused in my life about what I want, what it feels right for me.

There is one thought that stuck with me for the last couple of years: suicide.

I know, a very relatable and, frankly, a boring subject in this period.

Maybe I should do it this time. It’s my decision to make, I should be selfish for once.

No. Think about the people in your life, how they’re going to be affected by this.

Why should I? It’s my life, I get to do whatever I want with it.

Yes, but your meaning it’s to get the most of your life. Enjoy the little things, take risks, make memories.

Yes, this is but one example of what happens in my head, as I smile at one of your stories.

Once I’m back at my desk, the storm in my head begins. Clouds gather around my brain and no matter what I do, I just can’t snap out of it.

And so I begin to search for the easiest way to commit suicide. First result: pills. Why am I not surprised?

Which pills, what dosage, how can I be sure I won’t vomit them, that they will be lethal?

These are the answers I want, not quotes about how life is beautiful and psychologists recommendations.

Sighing, I move on to my next question. Where can I find a place to die, that no one will ever find my body? It seems like such place does not exist.

Ugh, why is it so difficult to do this? And why am I here? I should be in a deep cave, slashing my wrists and intoxicating myself with pills and alcohol.

Coward. Useless, spoiled brat.

I download a book, that hopefully I can relate to it. It’s about a woman so bored with her life that she decides to cheat on her husband and she has suicidal thoughts.

Ten pages into it, I can’t help but think "What a stupid book.“

I start browsing the internet, so I can take my mind of this haunting thought. But I should it, a bit of hurt for the peace I‘m longing for.

My psychologist asked me in my previous meetings "What is like to be happy? How will I know that I achieved what I want ?“

I didn’t know what to answer. All I know is that I want these thoughts out of my head and to feel at peace with myself. But happiness...

Exhaustion, restlessness, confusion, I got accustomed to them.

I open the drawer of my desk and I take out the meds for my treatment. These two white pills should calm the storm inside my head, however lately they’ve become pretty useless.

They’ve worked in the first weeks, but now I feel even more tired.

A couple of hours late, I’m home. Everything’s as usual, clothes thrown all around, empty bottles of water sitting around and snacks near my laptop.

After changing my clothes and eating something, I spend the next hours playing some computer games and listening to music.

I almost feel catatonic. I stare with a vacant look at my screen, not paying attention to what I’m doing.

My chest hurts again, and I want to scream.

This is not fair. I don’t deserve this.

Maybe I should do it after all ...

Automatically, I get in bed at 11:00 PM and I turn around, waiting to fall asleep.

My mind goes to places, skipping from one thought to another, imagining how it would feel like to just let it go already.

Perhaps one day I will be liberated, one way or another.