The Box

Introduction

The following piece came about due to a particularly bad bout with depression about three years ago. I’ve had other depressive episodes since then but am doing much better now thanks to  medication and therapy .

One again I sit here, some procedural cop drama or reality show blares on the TV, but it’s just white noise to fill the void. I tried sleeping but the chaotic energy coursing through me won’t let my brain shut off. Three years have gone past in an instant, but what do I have to show for it?    Hour after hour I wait. For what, I don’t know.

Another night spent at a bar downing cheap beer just so I can feel normal for awhile, but in the end I wound up  in the corner, as everyone else had fun. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I bother going out when I could be surrounded by a million people, but still feel as if I’m an alien.

It’s 3AM and I click on another profile. Why bother, girl or guy it makes no difference. Sorry not interested; sorry not into chubby guys; sorry, insert excuse here. Not smooth enough, young enough, hung enough, or the right hue for you to screw—oh go spew. Here’s something new: I want more than a paramour or to be your whore. Sex is great, but how about a date? How about a life mate?  Who am I shitting?  It’s my wrists I should be slitting.

Not like I haven’t thought about it before, not like anyone would care. Sure, they would be sad, but no one would miss me. What’s the point of living if I never participate, but then why do I hesitate?

I look down at the scare along my arm and the answer is clear. Fear of everything: being different, rejected, alone, and being a failure.  A brief moment of pain and it’ll all go away, but no. I trace the scar and remember the operation: thirty seven stitches, no anesthesia or pain killers, and too many blackouts to recall.

But I survived it and countless other operations. Six months in a comma, months more learning how to walk and talk again. Through it all I survived. Even when every breath was a battle I never gave in and if I do now then it was all for nothing. I can’t, I won’t. Because then they’d win and I won’t allow that.

I will stand and fight for a place of my own. And if I’m the only in it then so be it. I’m so much more than the characters in a box, then my stats or pictures. They can try to label me, but I’m done caring what anyone thinks, I’m going to be me.

If I fail then it won’t be because I didn’t give it my best. If no one ever reads a word I write then so what. I still wrote them and they will always be a reminder that I existed and, Goddamn it, I mattered. Yes it’ll be hard and I won’t always know what to do, but I’ve spent too long in this box already. Yeah I’m scared, but I’ll take one step and then another until I get to where I’m going.

If you or someone you know is contemplating hurting themselves contact the National suicide  prevention lifeline at 18002738255 or on the web at suicidepreventionlifeline.org