Most young people look forward to the day that they graduate or some other emotionally driven milestone like a first kiss. Other's look forward to the day they get their drivers license or the day they walk down the aisle with hopes of an everlasting romance.
I, on the other hand, have always looked forward to the day I die. As a pre-teen, I would get my younger brothers toy gun and pretend to blow my brains out. I'd act out a dramatic scene, pretend as if I am a young woman who is scorned because her lover has cheated on her and out of deep hopelessness, I'd take a bullet to my head. Extremely alarming and morbid if you ask me but I really enjoyed it.
These spiral of thoughts may have been the reason I attempted suicide for the first time at age twelve...
I was never depressed....but I had an ongoing of fear of being left on earth alone. Of being abandoned somehow. I did not like the idea of either of my parents or my brother dying before me. That fear was the only pain I felt. The Christians and Jews say that their God is all powerful, so I had no idea of knowing when they would leave this world so I should live life peacefully regardless. I found myself being in constant panic. Maybe if I didn't dwell on my fears that would not have been the case.
One day my dad took a little too long when he went to buy a carton of milk at a nearby grocery store. Who takes a whole hour to buy a carton of milk?
When he failed to return within twenty minutes, images of his blue minivan being hit by a truck began to flood my thoughts. There was no way he could survive that. It all started as a mere thought but soon I began to scream and shake and before I knew it, I was in a pool of sweat on the floor. My mum tried to calm me down despite her not being aware of why I was freaking out in the first place. She sat on the floor next to me with a towel in an attempt to wipe my face which, ideally, should have gone down smoothly; however I began to kick and scream and cry for my dad. Few minutes later she was on a phone call frantically speaking in Bemba (our local language) to whoever was the person on the receiving end of the conversation. I don't really know what happened after that. I can vaguely remember being carried off the floor and placed on my bed. I can also recall my parents staring down on me with perturbed looks on their faces. I hated worrying them. But the thought of being alone... I hated even more.
So one day it dawned on me. I am not a god. I can't control how long they spend here. I do, however, have a say on how long I spend here. So I decided to do what I did on September 25th 2019...
'Marie!'
I had been sitting on a porch near an empty library alone when I was rudely snapped back to reality by my friend Chansa who, unfortunately for me, is extremely irksome. She's clad in a chocolate coloured dress which is almost the same shade as her skin and her dreads that were usually messy were done up in a neat bun.
'Did you hear, Marie?' she squealed rather excitedly. I shook my head and gestured her to go on. I am not much of a talker and when I am around her, I almost never have to. I just listen while she goes off about whatever she feels like talking about in that moment.
'A boy patient is coming!' she grinned widely, revealing her smiley piercing. I was slightly shocked because according to our doctors, Piaget Jean Centre has not had a male patient in almost a decade. That's not surprising seeing that most of its patients are here because of an eating disorder, not that males can't get those. Chansa and I are among the small fraction with more 'intense' conditions. She too attempted suicide after she was gang raped at a college party. According to her doctor, she has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, she behaves normal for the most part. However, she has really bad nightmares on a weekly basis that cause her to get hysterical. So alas! Her mum thought it was best if she got professional help. I haven't even been diagnosed yet, but on my last doctors appointment, my new doctor, Dr. Chuma said something about 'borderline personality disorder'... I don't really know, I wasn't really listening plus sometimes I think most of the medical staff here are incompetent, so any hopes of truly knowing what is wrong with me have disappeared.
'Oh'
'Yeah a whole lot of us are hoping he's cute and all'
'I see'
'Or at least he should have a remarkable personality! It would be nice to have some male company'
'Okay'
'For once it would be nice if you actually acted interested in the things I tell you, Marie' she said in a slightly exasperated tone. I simply shrugged my shoulders. I worry about frustrating her sometimes, but why the heck should I care about some potentially psychotic male? She decided not to push the conversation any further and decided to just sit next to me and stare at basically nothing. This is why I liked her. Although by nature she is hyper and annoying, she knew her limits. Maybe she's just accepted that I'll probably never be enthusiastic about conversing or anything for that matter.
As it has already been established, I hate being alone. The thought terrifies me. So having at least one friend has somewhat kept me going and I am thankful that said friend doesn't overwhelm me or expect me to talk much because if I am being honest, I've grown fond of this feeling of nothingness. I hate how my mind is in a constant spiral but at the same time its as if being sad and insane has given me a new identity. I wouldn't know how normal Marie would be like. Did she ever exist?
Every day I feel myself getting swallowed; by what? I don't know. All I know is that I am drowning. I tried swimming to safety but maybe I am not meant to be saved. Maybe that's just impossible. I have come to peace with that, I wish everyone else would do. How can I be saved if I can't even figure out how I really feel to anyone? I can't translate how I feel in words. Perhaps I could but I simply do not want to. What's there to be open about if my soul is a ghost town? If I can't trust the thing that beats inside my chest? It would be better for everyone if my heart just stopped. Nothing and no one can convince me otherwise.
So I wait. Not for my healing. But to cease to exist.
