What's This Life For?

Sitting here, I'm wondering what exactly the point of existence is. Everyday I wonder how I'm going to pay bills since I have no job and have no way of getting a job until I have my illness treated. Even after that it is only to help me manage it. By the time all of this happens the joke of a government the UK has at the moment will have ballsed up the economy and I'll be lucky if I'll be able to get any kind of job at all. It seems in the modern world the only way succeed at anything is to have money to start with. If you are from a poor background then nobody cares about you. I hate having no job and no money but I'm at the mercy of NHS waiting lists before I can start getting back into work.

If I was normal and felt things the way everyone else does then I'd be happy, I'd still have my job, I'd still have my health and I'd not be such a disappointment to those close to me. Instead I have to feel things the wrong way, experience emotions that completely disrupt my grasp and perception of normal everyday occurrences. I want to be normal. I don't want to feel the way i do now and have done my whole life. how was i supposed to know that my perception and irrational fear of things wasn't normal? It wasn't until it completely overwhelmed me that i talked to someone about it. If only I could have kept it from overwhelming me then maybe I'd still have a job and my life wouldn't be something I want to end on a daily basis. Maybe I'm lucky that there is always someone there to stop me from ending it all, but at the moment I don't feel lucky. My leg is dripping with blood after I cut it just to feel some release of anguish and anxiety. I know I shouldn't do it but it is the only thing I do that makes me feel like any better. I'm messed up. Parts of my body are messed up with scars.

Why did I write this? I don't really know. I thought maybe writing about how I'm feeling right now may help me feel better or understand it. Did it? No, I still feel the same and still have no understanding of the things I do or the way I feel. A lifeless, soulless vessel that exists yet has no meaning or purpose.

Out Of Body, Out Of Mind

Contemplating acting on my suicidal tendencies during stressful times I wrote this poem. It shows how I've come to hate myself so much that I believe that should I ever manage to take my own life that I would not be missed.


Out Of Body, Out Of Mind

It seems tonight,
I'm on the floor.
There's someone
knocking at my door.

Can't answer it,
I only shout.
Then I hear,
No words come out.

I try again,
But it's the same.
I can't even,
Say my own name.

I panic now,
Start to weep,
From my eyes,
The tears not seep.

As for sound,
Nothing is heard,
From my mouth,
No breath transferred.

Looking down,
I see my face,
Reflection maybe?
This not the case.

My body limp,
Lips so blue,
Tell me this,
Cannot be true.

The door it opened,
In beamed a light,
Now all I feel
Is pain and fright

I walk towards
The light I see
I feel, I sense
My destiny

My body now,
Is left behind
And soon my life
Is out of mind.


(c)2008 David McGarry