Foreword:
Why is it that it's harder to walk backwards than forwards? One could say it comes down to the fact that our bodies were designed that way, and so it just goes against the primary way we were meant to walk, yet we still can walk backwards. I'm thinking of this right now, because some people take their lives and some don't. When you try to fall involuntarily your body tries to keep you up, and your leg falls forward or back, in this case the direction doesn't matter as long as you stay standing in the end. To fall intentionally, it's easier when you have a decline in terrain to fall off of, not a flat floor in a room, but when you push it or you get pushed over the edge in some way, even then, with no cliff, you can fall. That's how people die, metaphorically speaking. But personally, I don't believe that people ever fully want to die. No matter if you do actually want to die, which is of course possible, or don't want to end it, there is this piece in humans, in every living thing really, that says I want to live, and screams it loudest either in moments of great happiness or near death, sometimes in between. Even when you're about to die, your body will try to fight it, until it can't of course. Same goes for the mind, but it's easier to illustrate with the body as an example. If you think about it, close your eyes what do you see. Do you hear my voice as you read this, is it really mine, is it yours, it's my words but it's you who decides what they mean now. I'm going to tell you a story. I'm not good at telling them, but if you are willing to listen, thank you. Here it goes. I really do wonder how you read my words.
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So I told my mom I needed help. She didn't take it too well. Ever since starting a new school with my new colorful high-school junior experience shit went all the way down below sea level, and I mean it when I say that. I used to have intrusive thoughts since I was in fifth grade, then they turned to drawing symbols on my every notebook to prevent myself from getting stupid and arranging stuff all the time, repeating closing my pencil case, I did a few things but that slowly went away to give way to a whole bountiful basket of a hell of new experiences. The fact that I wanted to make friends but proved virtually unable to just sent me down an apathetic, sad-ass spiral of numbness and angry disappointment in turns. I didn't think it was going to be this hard. As a kid I could just make friends without second thought. Now I couldn't even start a conversation with people and slowly began to be partially go mute during class, well maybe that's not the best way to put it, but I couldn't respond to the teachers, even though I knew the correct answer and I spoke little if at all. Emo kid minus the emo appearance part, I looked pretty average in clothing and matters like that. It's all a bit fuzzy by now but for what I'm sure of, I was miserable and asocial. It's not like I didn't want friends, it's just that since I was not getting anywhere near having them I tried my hardest to convince myself I was better off alone, load of crap honestly, but that's what I did. Then I couldn't see the purpose in it anymore, living that is and I started fantasizing about drowning myself in my pool, yeah I know, I was rich. Now my parents are not in the best relationship state and so is their financial stability that went down the drain with it, starting when they got fired years back and opened their own company that isn't doing great as of now either. I feel a bit scared talking about this, since I think my parents wouldn't appreciate me sharing this in a book, but here I am. Anyway, I told my mom I was doing pretty shit, and she took me to the psychiatrist after we had a bit of a falling out at our terrace. It was sunny back then, all I remember is arguing and plain talking but not the content of it all. Then at the doctor's I kind of may have told them I heard a voice in my head. Yeah uhh, I feel like an idiot because it was coming mostly from my head and it wasn't a full blown hallucination only partial but it was enough with a few things added, including my scars that it landed me a voluntary admission into the pediatric psych ward.
- You know you don't have to be worse, to be valid, right? - The voice spoke. It was the other me, the one in my head, that has been there ever since I could judge myself. They were the jury both the bad and the good one. The devil in my head's shoulder and the angel on the other side respectively. That sounded kind of dumb but I swear it makes actual sense. Then again you're reading this so I get the knack you probably get it and if you don't that's probably for the better. Either way…
- Yeah, I know, but it sure as hell feels this way, I mean that I'm not valid enough ever. There are people that have it worse off after all, that have debilitating symptoms.
- But that doesn't mean your shit doesn't matter.
- Okay do you have to put it this way? Anyway, agh, yes, it matters, thanks I guess. Maybe I'm not an idiot but sure as hell do I feel like one.
- Clear as the sun to me. - it replied amused. I had a lot of conversations with it on the inside. I still sometimes talk internally to myself like this, but the voice is usually gone nowadays, but then it wasn't so much so.
The restaurant they had in the hospital was nice when I was an outpatient later. But when we are right now, it was the catering food in the closed ward spaces for me. Tasty, tasty potatoes, I swear sometimes the salad was a bit crunchy with some earth but it wasn't bad at all, except for the fact that I felt the pressure to eat it all. Now is the time to get back to the story, so sit back for the next chapter if you want to of course, grab a cup of tea or coffee, some people like neither, sorry to you guys, well either way, welcome to the my psych ward arc.