The archive of the forgotten

in pain or in sadness

Trigger warning: suicidal ideation

Yesterday I was alright, I wonder if I feel like this because of the medication. Well, whatever I call alright. My body hurts, granted I do not have as many seizures but I feel like a zombie. Medication is key, I know that all too well and it's not like I enjoy being sick but these medecines make me feel more dead than alive. I sigh, they're supposed to give me back my life, my normality, my hope but all they do is making this feel like an endless cycle of failure.

I wonder why I feel so miserable while my life is better than the last few months. I put down my pen and paper and close my eyes for a moment. Trying to focus on something else. I take a deep breath and grab my jacket, I need to get going, wouldn't want to be too late home.

I'm walking alongside the river my mind asks me why I don't jump in. I stop in my tracks, that was strange. I didn;t want to think that. I do not think that normally, why would I think that? Why would I ever think. I walk over a bridge, wondering what would happen if I would jump, I frown. It's not like it once was, it's not the same as the ones I used to get. I look at my hand, it looks as if I am dreaming, it looks as if the life was promised isn't existent at all. My mind seems to fly away as I get dizzier and dizzier as I try my best to walk like nothing is happening. I take a deep breath quicken my pace.

I look at the trains passing as I wait for mine. I light my ciigarette. I try my best to hide the numbness in the tears that fight to leave my eyes. But I won't let them, because why would I? Why would I want weakness to be a part of me? There's enough weakness as is. The wind of a passing train plays with my hair and dries my eyes. I close my eyes. I could, the train would hit me with such a impact, this could all be solved, I could be alright. I could be dead. I open my eyes, frightened by my own thoughts. Why would I think that, I can't think that. I am not allowed to feel that way.

A train nears the platform with it's frightening speed, I feel myself take a step. It scares me so I throw my bag on the floor and simply fall to my knees. I  don't allow myself to take another step towards the death I so deserve, to the death I so desire. I can't control my breathing as the weight on my chest gets worse and worse, I pray that I won't pass out. The cigarette burns my hand, reminding me I am still alive. I try to control my breathing but the world is slipping away, the speakers with the electric voices screaming information about the trains, the voics in a hurry on the telephone, people seeing eachother again after a long journey, happiness, heartbreak, all the noises of a main station. I hear everything and nothing, I'm losing my mind on the dirty floors of a train station.

"Are you alright love?" A motherly voice says. A lady is smiling at me, she puts her hand gently on my shoulder. "What do you need love." I gasp for air. "Get away....." I gasp for air another time. "Platform" "You need to get away from the platform sweetheart?" I smile, I have never been so grateful in my whole life. I nod with tears in my eyes. She walks to the main entrance, keeping me up with her tiny body, I try my best not to be too heavy but this woman has super strength.

She hands me a bottle of water. We're sitting on benches opposite from eachother. "Do you have ashtma?" She asks, I wipe away some tears. I nod, "Do I need to grab you your inhaler?" I smile and hand me her bag, I wouldn't care if she would take my whole wallet. She hands me the diskus. I quickly inhale the powder. I close my eyes as I feel my lungs relax. "I'm sorry madam." I say. She shakes her head. "You needed help sweetheart, chocolate? Helps after a fright" I smile and take the piece. "You're very kind madam." She smiles, "I have been a nurse, I was worried about you. Are you alright?" I try not to cry. "It's okay to cry" She says. I feel the tears coming, I can barely open my eyes, I am too scared to show myself. "It's alright" She says with a smile. "Everything is so difficult" I say. She smiles. "You remind me of my son." She shows me a picture, I chuckle, we do look alike. "He used to talk like that." I smile. "What happened?" She doesn't answer. She looks at the time. "Oh jolly, I need to leave sweetheart. Do you think you can manage?" I nod. "Thank you maám can I do anything to thank you" She shakes her head. "Just think about me the next time will you love?" I chuckle, hoping there won't be a next time but I nod.

A week later I'm sitting in a waiting room, the hospital walls are morbidly white and dangerously clean. I feel like there is no oxygen in this building, my father would call it a sick building, but than it would be a bit too literally. I barely hear them when they say my name. My body subconsiously stands up and follows them. I've been plagued by these thoughts for the past week, they're not the same but they're even more scary because of it. I cannot control them, they're always there, even when I am only cooking I ask myself why I don't simply cut open my wrists.

"So Ezra" the zombie in a white coat said, he is barely more alive than I am. And trust me, I am not alive. "You have isseus with Lamictal right? I think we should take half of the dose. See if that works before we give up on it." I chuckle. "Care to share Ezra?" "I begin to hate doctors," I say while looking at him. "Oh" He responds. "You give me hope by giving me another medicine after another and everything fails. I don't care that it fails, that is not your fault but how could you put something that literally could cause suicidal thought in a person who already has mental problems and expect me to thank you? I am feeling worse than ever and I wish to die, and half of what I said is probably the medication talking. I just wish there was some way of avoiding these risk Doctor Goethingen." The doctor nods, "I understand your frustration Ezra. We are here to help you and you probably feel alone in your struggle. We really try our best." I nod and wipe away a tear. "I know, I am sorry. I just wish somebody truly hears me."

I look down at the street the wind sways my hair as if at any moment it could throw me off. I need to choose between living my life in pain and living my life in sadness. I have never made a choice like that, but I don't want to choose, so the most normal option seems no life at all. No life at all, do I even know what it means? Does anyone know what it means when they give up their life. "Strong winds today right?" A boy my age says, I look down at the streets. "Isnt this a bit dangerous?" I ask as he sits down on the ledge. "Says the one planning to jump" he says with a beautiful smile on his face. I chuckle, "Touché, why are you here?" I ask. "You looked lonely, Why are you giving up?" He says. "I wouldn't call it giving up if you have nothing to give up on." He smiles, "That sounds like something good, if you have nothing you can start from scratch. You can design your life exactely the way you want it. Sit down" He says while pulling pulling the sleeve of my shirt. I sit down and look out of the city. I feel a tear fall. "I just want to be happy." "Don't we all" He says while wrapping his arm around me. "But if we put in the work, we can make that happen." We sit there till it get's dark.

"Hey lovebirds." The concierge says, "The building is closing." We walk back inside. "Thank you, I....I really thought this was my last day here." I say, he smiles. "I've thought it almost everyday, but doesn't it make it sweeter." He walks away. "Wait! Can I have your number?" He smiles and writes something on my hand. I immeditaly take picture so I don't forget and wash it away. "I am Ezra, What's your name?" he smiles, "Angelo"

phew that was a bit of a rollercoaster to write, it also was mentally hard to write for me. It turned out longer than expected but I quite like it.