Light. Light bad. No light. I didn't want to see light. I wanted darkness. Darkness had wrapped itself around me and took me into its depths so that I was gone and lost forever. That stupid light was wrecking my darkness.
In darkness, you are completely surrounded by total nothingness. Nothing can touch you, speak to you, come near, or communicate with you in any way. Darkness is bliss.
Sound. For the first time in who knows how long, I heard noise in my ears. Said ears were ringing and said sound was an annoying little blip. I didn't want to hear it. I wanted to go back to my wonderful darkness.
I could tell I was alone. I can feel when other people are in the room. I can smell them, hear the sound of their breath entering and leaving their lungs, feel the heat radiating off of their skin, and I can say I was alone when my eyes slowly cracked open.
A hospital room was where I found myself when I got my senses in order and concentrated enough to see clearly, which took some time. The heart monitor was beeping. I hated that heart monitor with all of my being. I hated the IV needle that dripped clear fluids into my veins. I hated the bandages that were wrapped around my left fore arm. I hated who ever found my cold, stiff body on the bathroom floor, bathed in a puddle of blood. I hated me.
"Look who's awake," the doctor said as he walked into the room carrying a clipboard. I rolled my eyes at his false enthusiasm. "We were afraid you weren't going to wake up. You've been out for a good three weeks."
"Why?" I whispered, my voice cracking from my dry, cracked lips.
The doctor looked somewhat startled, "Excuse me?"
"Why couldn't you have just let me die? Did you ever think maybe I didn't want you to say me and as soon as I get out of here, I'm going to try again and this time, I'll take you with me? Why save people who don't want to be saved and are currently very depressed, suicidal, and homicidal and all of their emotions are wrapped up into one tiny ball that's buried deep inside and when it breaks loose, it brings all of Hell with it?" I asked with a slight psychotic gleam in my eyes that I knew was there even if I couldn't see it. The doctor looked very, very frightened and I smiled as he called for a nurse.
"Are you going to call my friends?" I asked, slightly still in "Farfarello-mode", as I playfully called it in my mind, "They don't care. They probably want me dead, too. It seems as though you're the only one who wants me to live, Doc. I doubt you would want me to be alive if you got to knew me. I'm not a very nice person. Everyone in the entire world thinks I'm dirt, and I think I'm dirt, too. I don't deserve to be alive, because I'm dirty, nasty, vile, wretched, disgusting-."
A nurse came in and poked a needle into my arm and I put me to sleep. I could still hear their voices.
"We may need to move him to the psyche ward. He seems very unstable," the doctor said.
"Sir, his friends said he'd been through a lot. Perhaps we should contact them."
"Yes, that would be excellent. Do so as soon as possible."
In darkness, you are completely surrounded by total nothingness. Nothing can touch you, speak to you, come near, or communicate with you in any way. Darkness is bliss.
Sound. For the first time in who knows how long, I heard noise in my ears. Said ears were ringing and said sound was an annoying little blip. I didn't want to hear it. I wanted to go back to my wonderful darkness.
I could tell I was alone. I can feel when other people are in the room. I can smell them, hear the sound of their breath entering and leaving their lungs, feel the heat radiating off of their skin, and I can say I was alone when my eyes slowly cracked open.
A hospital room was where I found myself when I got my senses in order and concentrated enough to see clearly, which took some time. The heart monitor was beeping. I hated that heart monitor with all of my being. I hated the IV needle that dripped clear fluids into my veins. I hated the bandages that were wrapped around my left fore arm. I hated who ever found my cold, stiff body on the bathroom floor, bathed in a puddle of blood. I hated me.
"Look who's awake," the doctor said as he walked into the room carrying a clipboard. I rolled my eyes at his false enthusiasm. "We were afraid you weren't going to wake up. You've been out for a good three weeks."
"Why?" I whispered, my voice cracking from my dry, cracked lips.
The doctor looked somewhat startled, "Excuse me?"
"Why couldn't you have just let me die? Did you ever think maybe I didn't want you to say me and as soon as I get out of here, I'm going to try again and this time, I'll take you with me? Why save people who don't want to be saved and are currently very depressed, suicidal, and homicidal and all of their emotions are wrapped up into one tiny ball that's buried deep inside and when it breaks loose, it brings all of Hell with it?" I asked with a slight psychotic gleam in my eyes that I knew was there even if I couldn't see it. The doctor looked very, very frightened and I smiled as he called for a nurse.
"Are you going to call my friends?" I asked, slightly still in "Farfarello-mode", as I playfully called it in my mind, "They don't care. They probably want me dead, too. It seems as though you're the only one who wants me to live, Doc. I doubt you would want me to be alive if you got to knew me. I'm not a very nice person. Everyone in the entire world thinks I'm dirt, and I think I'm dirt, too. I don't deserve to be alive, because I'm dirty, nasty, vile, wretched, disgusting-."
A nurse came in and poked a needle into my arm and I put me to sleep. I could still hear their voices.
"We may need to move him to the psyche ward. He seems very unstable," the doctor said.
"Sir, his friends said he'd been through a lot. Perhaps we should contact them."
"Yes, that would be excellent. Do so as soon as possible."