nixon matthew york
SIXTEEN ! GAY ! LOGAN LERMAN ! SOPHOMORE ! CANON !
i can remember it so clearly now, watching the tack enter the soft skin and the small drop of blood rising to the surface before emerging. that was just the visual, soon after a shrill cry followed and i shoved my hands in front of my eyes attempting to block out the crying, the blood, the way he looked because of
me.my counselor says i'm too hard on myself, that i blame myself for others misfortunes and often overlook the real facts of what happened. however, my most petrifying memory of watching my friend get his thumb jammed through by my tack in a game of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey is still so strong and fresh. some memories fade quickly and don't matter, but this one always triggers something deep in me, it makes me depressed and sad. i'm introverted to say in the least, but i try to be more outgoing when i can, its just hard when you feel like nothing ever goes right and you will always end up hurting someone.
the sharp and potent memory often triggers what my counselor calls "depersonalization" in me. when i feel like i don't have control over my body and i'm watching a movie of myself. i've gotten used to this depersonalization, it tends to comfort me more than anything. i like to know that the me when i'm not me does the right thing and makes good decisions but when i'm away from my body and sitting in the movie theater of my head or watching myself sometimes i feel even more depressed. my episodes of depersonalization aren't often but when they happen they can last for hours and often times i just have to wake up myself again.
my parents sent me to st. judes against my will. they did it because my counselor told them about my issues. she told them that even though i'm conscious of myself and yadda yadda that i didn't really have two friends to rub togehter or open up to people and that sending me to whack house would force me to make friends. she also told them i would probably show up to public school some day and shoot everyone because of my suicidal tendencies. but we're talking about a woman who wore socks that went to below her knees and wore glasses so thick she could see into space. still, in her defense, i did try to commit suicide-- twice.
i'm not going to go into detail about it because i'll just end up loosing myself again. but the first time i tried to sit in the garage and run the car to suffocate myself through carbon monoxide, but my father opened the garage just as i was starting to slip. the second time i waited for a rainy day when no one was home and i took pills from my parents cabinets, i just tossed them all into a bowl, turned on monty python: search for the holy grail, and ate them like popcorn with a little glass of whiskey. they pumped my stomach before i went that time. the idea of leaving this world often entices me because i feel like there is little i can do that is any good. i've only ever noticed the hurtful and sad things i've caused people. i don't think i've ever seen myself do anything of worth that made anyone else happy.
peter, conqueror of yams
AIM: TWILISTER / MSN: MONOPOLYPARKPLACE@YAHOO.COM ! (-7:00) GMT
