It will rule you with an iron first. Grip your mind like a vice. Consume your soul right in front of you.
Dangerous thoughts devour my mind as I struggle against the raging war I fight against the Stalin of my mind; the depression. Brutal thoughts of the suffering, the hopeless future and the inevitable. They say all good things must come to an end, but in the seventeen years I have lived to this day, it would seem that supposed ‘good’ ended before it even began.
The self-prescribed drugs I ingest make no attempt at providing any long term solace or comfort to the shattered soul I can call my own, but rather further the pain and the suffering that is my existence.
“You are absolutely pathetic Jack! It’s 12 o’clock; get out of your room!” howled my mother. At best, our relationship was distant.
I only wish for the pain to end.
* * * * *
“If the pain goes on, I’m not going to make it” bellows Corey Taylor, lead singer of Slipknot, as it is amplified into my mind through my one true friend, my iPod. The heavy, rhythmic beat of the song drowns out the excruciatingly loud silence of my early morning walk to school, with the exception of the built-up ice on the road which softly crunches beneath my black, leather shoes.
As I walk down the desolate, barren road, filled with pristine, upper-class and wealthy houses, I attempt to fool myself into believing it is the first time I have acknowledged the juxtaposition of the easily discernible run down and uninspiring home on the corner, against the immaculate suburb which contained it. The same house I was some how expected to call home. Without even looking, I could feel the watchful, prowling eyes of my affluent neighbours burning into me from there double glazed windows. I could not fathom the thought of how long it had been since my family had been invited to one of their exquisite dinner parties.
Before long I was sitting in my faithful corner of the library, hidden from the ubiquitous, prying eyes of my peers, who to a significant extent were responsible for the condition I was in. It was in this moment that my thoughts overcame me, as I struggled to tame them like an unskilled lion keeper. Life had not been the same since my Dad had decided to take the easy way out with his trusty Smith & Wesson. On a single income, my mother and I could no longer afford many of the necessities previously provided by my father, and just like the condition of our house, our relationship quickly deteriorated. We could no longer afford to be a family.
“I have screamed until my veins collapsed”, continued Corey, whose lyrics were seemingly inspired by my own uninspiring existence.
Amidst the struggles of my family life, I had turned to certain poisonous recreations, attempting to fill the void that had been forged through the passing of my creator. As if on cue, my grades were quickly taken hold of by the avalanche, and my ‘friends’ abandoned me as quickly as possible in order to avoid the public humiliation of associating with me. In turn, they simply became another of my own personal demons, as they began to ridicule me.
Out of the labyrinth of bookshelves, a group of adventuring fiends materialised in front of me. Seemingly haven taken it upon themselves to find me this morning, and make life even worse for me.
“Get the hell out of here!” sneered one of them,
“You’ve got no friends, no money and you suck!” they jeered collectively,
It was a wonder how there were any tears left within me, as I fled the library and ran towards the counsellors office, a place where I thought I could take refuge. My own paranoia overwhelmed me as I realised he was not here. Against the truth that he was not at school on Friday, the demons that roamed my mind convinced me that no one wished to listen to me.
There was nobody who wanted to listen to me. Nobody.
The day continued as it began, in pure and utter chaos. There was no use in teachers attempting to discipline everyone in the grade who persecuted me, as that would leave very few people left in my year group to teach. “Stop teasing Jack!” They would exclaim, but to no avail, the monotonous oppression continued.
As soon as the day ended, I ran home, neglecting to take any school books with me. There would soon be no practical need for such necessaries.
I ran back down the same immaculate street. Back to the disgrace and outlier of the street that was my home. Back to my room, before slamming and locking the door. As the tears continued to bleed down my face, I drifted off into a nightmare, which served no justice to the nightmare that was real life. A nightmare within a nightmare, how much worse could this get?
“You are absolutely pathetic Jack! It’s 12 o’clock; get out of your room!” howled my mother.
The battle is lost and the war is over. In the grand scheme of things, the show must go on, but as I reach for my stash for one last and almighty fix, I know this eternity will be no more.
In these fleeting moments, a surge of adrenaline and fear encapsulated me. There was no time to consider the consequences of my actions. I do not belong here.
I guess Corey was right, “It’s the only thing, that slowly stops the ache”. And just like that, the pain was brought to an end; like father, like son.
* * * * *
“I never knew Jack that well”, began one of his classmates in a solemn manner,
“But if given the opportunity, I am sure we would have gotten along just fine. Everybody belongs somewhere.”
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