Discovering the Past

So many years passed, and I felt lost in the world, I didn´t feel like I belonged anyplace, so I moved a lot, traveling.
I sent postcards to Gerard. I was stupid enough to think for some time that he didn´t meant it, that he didn´t hate me, that he cared about me. But I was wrong.
Gerard never answered my letters, I know he got them, because Mikey’s postcard’s arrived and he wrote back, always thanking me for sending toys for little Mikey. How I liked to call him.
But Gerard never answered, so after a while I assumed he actually didn´t care if I was dead or alive.
I moved to London after I was living in Russia in winter, I hated it there, too fucking cold. London was a nice city.
I liked it.
By then I was, as my therapist said, severely depressed and having suicidal thoughts.
I was taking pills, anti-depressive and sleeping pills, all prescribed, but I hated it. I hated myself. This state of mine, of numbness, of loneliness.

So I lived alone, for a chance in London.
I started to see a new therapist and he gave me this notebook.
“Write your feelings down. It´s like you are talking to a friend, but the notebook can´t judge you”
I did what the good doctor recommended. But it went bad. I found myself writing nonsense and when I read them I saw how messed up I was, and get angrier at me.

-Did you ever felt like you going to break, like you are weak enough to be torn down by the smallest breath, by the smallest comment or word?
It’s like your body is not yours anymore, and it hurts even to laugh, to talk, to pretend, yeah pretending is the key here, you have to pretend that you´re okay, you have to smile at a joke made by the taxi driver. You have to seem concentrated on your work, but how can you concentrate when your head is out of place, traveling across a red sea of faces feeling of emotion? How can you read a couple of words when you feel you are going to explode and just kick something because you´re angry with yourself, because you´re useless, because you are a fake, a big deception?!!!
A mistake by nature.
Everything goes wrong, and nobody listens, because there is nobody.-

-I hate myself for being so weak, for changing moods so fast, for not feeling a real connection with anybody close to me. There’s nobody. Nobody.
And the pain inside, started to materialize in physical pain, my chest hurt, my head hurt, my thoughts felt like a bomb inside…my legs became weak… not giving me a chance to run away.
I had done that before, I had run away, but there is no shelter to arrive at. The entire world is a mine field.-

-Why everything had to be so demanded, you have to be someone in life, you have to leave a mark, I didn´t disappear. And now I’m what I used to hate the most.
Can I be happy?
Happiness. I don´t recall the smell of happiness.-

-I hate people sometimes.
I hate more to hate them without reason, because they hurt me, because they hurt me without even knowing they hurt me. I’m not supposed to hate them, they are good. Maybe I am the one with the problem, I’m so weak, I get too affected by any small comment.
Yeah, the one I hate is me.
I just want to feel something real in my life, stop the castles built on the clouds, and have a castle on the earth.-

-What will happen if I’m not here anymore? Who will cry for me?
Who would put flowers on a grave for me?
Not my father, fuck he´s dead! He died hating me.
My friends? What friends?
They forgave me, long ago.
I don´t have anything left. I don´t want to keep feeling this pain inside.
I just want to be free.
I wonder if he´ll cry.
Will he be sorry??
Does he know how much I loved him?
Maybe I could send him a letter.
-

I woke up in the hospital bed, my arms hurt and my whole body felt numb. I noticed that I couldn´t move my arms freely, I looked down at them, they were tied to the bed.
I looked around.
The white room smelled like alcohol and cleaning stuff. It was pretty illuminated which made my eyes hurt. Actually everything hurt, my head, my ears, my stomach, my wrists.
Shit.
I´m fucking alive.

“Hello, Mr. Iero. I see you´re awake,” An old man with a white robe entered the room, He had a clipboard in his hands. A doctor I presumed.
“Glad you’re still with us.”
Yep, definitely still alive.
“Who brought me here?”
“Your neighbor. He came to visit yesterday,” He fixed his glasses and took some notes of the monitors next to my bed. “He´s nice man, you should be grateful.”
“Mr. Ptter?” My throat hurt too.
The doctor nodded. I coughed a couple of times.”Your throat is sore from the tube, you didn´t breathe so we had to help you.”
“Great,” I said sarcastically, the doctor just gave me a glare.
“So, as you can see you´re tied up.”
“Why…?”I felt my mouth dry.
“To prevent you from hurting yourself again.”
“When do I get out?”
“Not so quickly,”
“I see that you were seeing a therapist…”
I just nodded.
“Seems like that didn´t help much did it?” He smiled at me I just looked at him, annoyed. “Okay, you’ll have to spend at least a week here, until you´re stable.” I just sighed. “Tomorrow you´ll be transferred to the psychiatric section, on the second floor.”
“I´m not crazy”
“Probably not, but is what we do in these cases.”
I just sighed deeply. I can’t even get that right, killing myself properly.
It´s okay, I´ll just wait. I can always do it again.