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| Articles: Dolocide |
Posted by
Dolorosa on Monday, June 17, 2002 - 10:18 AM PST
Well...it's about freaking time I went into detail. To satisfy the curious I'm sure...but mostly this is just for me, to put it into stone. So I never forget, and never, ever make the same fucking mistakes. I've already written my epitaph, and I'm still waiting to use it...I just can't do it by my own hand anymore.
I didn't "Attempt" suicide...I failed it. No cry for help, no weak little attention-getting marks or pleas. I did not want help, I did not want words or comforting lies...
I had a plan, a good one too. Drink a little, take some aspirin (Not too much, I'm not the OD'ing type), get in a tub filled with warm water and slice my forearms. The whole wrist thing is just sorta' lame.
I wasn't going to write any grand and glorious note, I wasn't going to spit out any bitingly poetic words, or shed any tears. I was simply going to do it. I didn't want to bother anybody about it either, so I planned on doing it after a three day at work...within that time they could find somebody to fill in for me. Very little mess, very little trouble, no warning, no...nothing.
Unfortunatly...fate, and a guardian angel with a seriously fucked up sense of humor stopped me. Maybe it was a subconcious survival instinct (The more I think about it Feral...the more I wonder if I CAN kill myself) I dunno' but heres the scoop.
Blonde Girl...she did it to me once, and I forgave her, she forgave me...yaddah yaddah. (Forgave me...that always makes me laugh to this night) But, I honestly loved her, I could just fucking feel that she was bad, but in the same light, I got just a glimmer of an image about the good in her. And I fell, hard. (Never do anything half-assed anyhow) Trials and tribulations.
Being stuck on an island, crammed with nasty spirits, really really unfriendly dreams, problems at home and flashbacks from my own childhood that I've spent most of my life alienating myself from started to build and boil.
I met these simple problems the same way I always had, a laugh, a smile and a joke...but at the same time, that wasn't enough. I needed a goddess, or someone who I could hold while she slept, who could hold me when I tried to sleep. Someone I could be with, trust, give and get from. A lighthouse in a storm of just pure shemngy shit. Unfortunately...it was that same bastion of security that lit the flames.
I was planning it for a long time, now though, because I was moderately happy...and didn't want to die in absoloute self-loathing and pissant angst. I wanted to die knowing that I at least did it on an upswing, before things could get any worse. Law of Entropy you know...Thermodynamics and Suicidal Ideations go hand in hand.
It was bad though...one simple stupid event ruined all my plans...for better and for worse.
We went out...had some fun. Blonde Girl and me...Brunette girl and Morte...and a big guy, a friend of Morte and mine. (One of Morte's best buddies actually). We did our thing, had our fun.
The blonde, brunette and myself made an interesting discovery...the two girls would occasionally get intimate with eachother when they needed it...At first this kind of irked me, because...not that I had a problem with the concept. I wish they had informed me earlier and under less inebriated circumstances. Took me a second to get used to it...but the brunette girl and the blonde girl told me something that made me feel so much better...although they needed eachother, the Blonde Girl also needed me, just as deeply. So I backed off, let them have their fun, and simply enjoyed watching to beautiful girls enjoy themselves.
Then the brunette girl got faced...sick, a little weird metaphysics were jumping around too. Morte took her home. Blonde Girl, the big guy and myself stayed, planning on following home soon after to make sure they were doing alright.
I should have left then and there...
A half hour passes...the blonde girl pretty much ignores me, which I was kinda' wondering about...but hey, I figured she was worried about her friend and lover. So I do my whole friendly thing, talking and having fun.
And then I see it...and I have to check closer to see it.
Her sitting, well...smooshed into, the big guy...making out like a couple of senior promers. Just going at it. My heart sinks, of course...but I disbelieve it. Until I come closer and the big guy and I lock eyes. He stares straight at me, I stare straight at him. And they just keep on going...I don't think the blonde girl even felt it. He shuts his eyes...and I immediatly walk outside. I've felt fury before, but never so strong, I've never had something that fucking white hot light up in me...even in my prior battles and trials, nothing could ever compare...it was like some twisted sun just burst into life in my chest. I stopped, counted to ten, breathed...and that didn't exactly work.
I went back in...unfortunatly, I also had a cigar in my hand.
It didn't take me long, I beelined, waited for a moment, watching the two...then I pretty much stuck my cigar on his face and arced it slowly downward...I don't think he even fully understood what was happening to him. He just curled back suddenly, and tried to turn his face away...which didn't work. I was aiming for his eyes...but something caused me to check my course and score his right cheek instead, pretty widely too.
After that, everybodies up and screaming, he's in my face...and I point outside.
Lots of noise. I sort of blacked out. But I remember just pacing slowly around him, eye to eye. He was a lot bigger than me, but he was also a lot drunker, a lot slower and not as fucking mean. I was planning on just stepping in quick, let him get a good punch or wrestling lock in if he wanted to before he noticed the pen in his ear...or his throat. It would have been so fucking easy, and now I kind of still wished I had gone through with it...but only to a certain extent.
Then I see the Blonde Girl take off...wobbling like a madman. So I cut the testosterone act...leave him shouting out curses and insults (Although he did not pursue) and hunted her down quickly.
I didn't touch her, and she pretty much just screamed at me in outright rage. She doesn't remember what she said, apparently...but I do. And I remember what I did. Got in her way and screamed back for awhile as I flagged down a liberty patrol (Senior enlisted marines who travel the town stopping trouble and catching UCMJ infrators) They catch her, stop the arguing and the guy asks me whats up...I tell her she was with me at a bar, I thought some marines were trying to get her drunk and take her home. She didn't know she was getting alcohol, they just gave her fruity drinks...I stopped it, but a scene started up. I asked him to take her home, to the Hospital barracks and made him promise me she would be ok...she was underage too which would have seriously fucked up her career had she been caught intentionally drinking (Which she was of course). He promised me...and they left.
I kind of found myself utterly alone at that moment. I wasn't feeling too good myself either (I was sobered up during the adrenaline rush, but after that, depression and swirly-headedness followed) . And I don't know why...but I decided to forward my suicide agenda a little bit...I just couldn't bear to be in this shithole place and time anymore. I decided to blow this fucking popsical stand. So I beelined for the ocean...
Thats when things got fucked.
I ran into a friend of mine...in the middle of a crowded labyrinthine okinawan city, at night, while I wore all black and stuck to the alleys. He came across me and followed, asking me questions and talking to me...I was a bit beyond coherence at the time...I was just crying (Somewhat disgraceful...) lost and alone, and still homicidally inclined to whatever could come close enough (Thankfully the locals stayed clear, I know I would have broken anything and anyone I could reach out and grab at the time). Somehow...I must have slipped (whee alcohol) and said something about just getting it fucking over with. The guy who was following me...just asked me to knock it off (Nicely actually) and chill...he didn't want to have to knock me out and drag me home. I looked at him for a minute, and told him flat out "You're a shitload stronger than me...but I'm faster." and took of like a bat out of hell. Jumped a couple fences, sluiced through a few balconies and ended up at the ocean.
I just sort of walked in...cleared my lungs before I got to deep water...kneeled down, then laid at the bottom. And let my lungs fill with sea water. It sucked.
I thrashed for a second reflexively, but was able to keep myself down. I just forced myself to relaxe and let it happen. It was hot, and tight at the same time...and then it got really cool and comfortable. My vision started to fuzz out and I couldn't move my fingers or arms very well...I got kind of sleepy. I wanted to take a nap.
And then the guy I left in the dust, my friend who shouldn't have found me in the first place...drags me out of the ocean. And ruined my fucking night.
A quick purge of the lungs, and it's off to the ER. and then the Psych Ward. They had the gall to ask me if I was still thinking about killing myself or anyone else...I went into detail, just for the hell of it. That tacked on a couple extra days.
So here I am now...heading out of the Navy for a list of antisocial disorders, adjustment disorders and emotional problems that would make the Manson Family psych profiles look like the Brady Bunch (Well...the Brady's WERE pretty fuckin' out there.) Rumors have started to fly. The Blonde Girl and the big burned faced guy are hooked up and seeing one another, already...apparently some people think I tried to drown myself in the shower, or the drinking fountain, I attacked him with a knife, and pinned her against the wall. (If I had done the wall-pin thing I'm pretty sure she could have kicked the unholy living shit out of me...she's pretty tough) The vast majority of my friends and accomplices are looking at me with frigid little eyes. I find myself even more alone than before...hurt and bleeding inside, AGAIN. I can't kill myself now...because everybodies expecting it, that ruins the whole plan right there. I can't even really laugh and play anymore...I just walked around, kinda' blank eyed. I want to go home...live my own fucking life for my own god damned reasons, and get away...but I can't just yet.
And to top it all off, I get to see them everyday...I get to be ignored, I get to be blamed for being a selfish psychopath. I get cast out...from a group of people I trusted and loved...sounds almost fucking bibilical.
I suppose I should feel bad, guilty and hate myself for being a suicidal/loser/manic. And, well, to tell you the truth...all the bullshit happy thoughts they fed me in the ward kinda' make me think that. But part of me still rages...part of me still bleeds and cries...part of me still wishes I had blinded him.
But overall...me...the whole and unrefined, just wants to get away. And leave all these mixed emotions, love hope anger hate wrath sadness loss bitterness and sheer utter lonliness, all behind. Just start fucking over, go back to me...lose the facades and the bravado, just purify myself and find out my own fucking name for myself.
I don't know...this doesn't really even make that much sense to me. Thats why I need to go home, and rebuild.
I hate this Navy, and I love this Navy...I hate these people and I love these people...I'm stuck in a hateful sort of stasis that just runs my fucked up heart ragged and makes the wounds worse, day by fucking day.
I found out how many friends I actually had...and they are few in number.
I'm done with this version of me...in as many ways as I can figure...I just can't kill myself anymore.
I don't even know how to finish this...even looking at it makes me want to break something. But as far as anyone else cares...I'm getting better, I'm smiling or something...I'm working (In the post office of all places...>_<) Best of all, I'm leaving.
Fuck 'em...
I got other shit to do.
Dolo.
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| Note: This is the ending to This story |
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| Dolocide | Login/Create an account | 19 Comments |
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Re: Dolocide
by Psychopixi on Jun 17, 2002 - 12:33 PM
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I know you don't know me, and I don't know you, and I probably have no right to say anything here but I wanted to post anyway.
Okay, so this sounds stupid and cliche as I'm even writing it, but if there's anything I can do...
You have loads of friends on here which you'll talk to above me, but I suppose I just wanted to make the gesture as from what I've read on here you're a genuinely great guy and I hate the fact that you're hurting.
Just tell me to sod off if that made no sense, or worse, if it did make sense and was unwanted, I won't be offended. ;)
Psyche
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Re: Dolocide
by Rogue (Rogue@skew.org)
on Jun 17, 2002 - 03:54 PM
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Stuck, on an island? Hey Devin, how did you ever get along stuck on Maui all that time?
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Re: Dolocide
by Rogue (Rogue@skew.org)
on Jun 17, 2002 - 04:04 PM
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Seriously though, that last sentence you wrote says it all. It really sucks to get to the other side and then get it all into perspective and realize that you have more important things to do with your time than cash it in before you throw the dice. Oh, and the way back is harder than the way out. Best thing you can do for yourself right now is learn something from all of this, death is a powerful teaching tool.
And why you sailors always gotta blame us jarheads? Jarheads need love too. :-D
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Re: Dolocide
by feralucce on Jun 18, 2002 - 07:53 AM
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My friend... in nature... there are very few things worth dying for... a mate... is one of those things... I would say I feel sorry for you or that my heart sweels at your story... but I cannot... that would be more cruel... instead... I have been there... I cannot know what you are feeling... but I have an inkling...
*opens his arms to his friend* Let's go hunt...
Feral
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Re: Dolocide
by Arthegarn on Jun 18, 2002 - 01:06 PM
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My dear friend:
Then something snaps and you do it. I know what it's like. When it snapped inside me I realized I was going to do it, and I hired a shrink. Do you know why? Because I thought conmitting suicide was a sin. Not because I did not want to do it or anything... just because I was not allowed to do it. Pityful, huh?
I wish there was something I could do, something you needed that I could give. But it seems it's not the case. I'll pray, of course, for what it's worth, but I wish we could all meet you in this big party and hug you so long, so many people, that you couldn't even open the first beer. I don't know about the rest of the bunch, but I really would miss you if you were gone.
Time heals everything. Time forgives everything, even oneself.
Never say die, Dolorosa.
Arthegarn
(As a side note... did you know Dolo means "to do something evil willingly?")
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Re: Dolocide
by MorteAscendo on Jun 18, 2002 - 08:57 PM
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Man, I wasnt there for it cause i took the Brown haired girl home. But i felt the reprocusions of it all. Dolo, you say that you are alone here but you know that im here. You know that Bri is here. WE have been there for you since the begining, and we are here to stay even when you leave. My home in Cali and you know this. It's not like im going to forget about my sidekick that fast do you? You are my brother and i'll be here always. Who eles is going to protect you from the midgets???!?!?!
Your compadre,
-Morte
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Re: Dolocide
by bettie_x (strangersangel@hotmail.com)
on Jun 18, 2002 - 09:34 PM
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Dolo, as hard as it was, I'm glad you decided to get this out of your system by putting it here. Writing is thereaputic.
Usually it takes something very personal and catastrophic to find out who your real friends are...and as I've found out, they are fewer in number that most of us would like to believe. True friends pass no judgment, true friends get their details straight before doing so, true friends are there when you fuck up bad..and afterward.
This is why I have no more close friends than I can count on one hand. Friends, that is, that are close eough to hurt me. I married one, if that counts.
What I don't understand is the "outcast" symptom you are describing. The last time I checked, even those not involved are interested, not angered, by someone's suicide. Yes it's selfish, yes it's sad, but is it their business to pass judgment or have an opinion on something that has nothing to do with them? You're RIGHT. FUCK THEM. FUCK 'EM pal...and make them scream who their daddy is.
If anything is to be learned from this is that you now know who exactly your FRIENDS are.
the rest can blow.
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Re: Dolocide
by hipperthanu on Jun 18, 2002 - 09:36 PM
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Don't have all too much to comment besides to commend you on your writing. Not to play favorites but you have the highest quality and most engrossing writing of anything I've read on this site. Something intangible about it makes it interesting and relatable. Whatever you do, keep that up.
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Re: Dolocide
by IamSquid (AAA@sockmonkeys.net)
on Jun 19, 2002 - 12:14 AM
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I don't know if this is going to sound insensitive but I never really have any kind of zest to live unless there's nothing I'd rather do than die. Forgive mee if that's out of line.
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Re: Dolocide
by Schizo on Jun 19, 2002 - 12:06 PM
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Damn, Dolo, what can I say? Except that we all care very much about you (at least I do!). And I'd like to get my claws into that blonde girl. And her big caveman piece of shit! God I hate people like that!
Smart work, the way you got her home again! Very good thinking, especially for someone who had been drinking. I'm impressed!
Good luck in rebuilding a life that you feel is worth living. You deserve much better.
And please don't hate yourself. Not that I think suicide was a good idea, but just because you tried that is no reason to think yourself a loser. Just all the more reason to care about yourself and build yourself up.
I certainly don't think you're a loser.
And as for all those so-called friends, you're right. Fuck them.
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Re: Dolocide
by Shade (Shade@Gothcult.com)
on Jun 20, 2002 - 10:31 AM
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Dolo,
Man, I'm sorry I've been off line this whole time, but you have my best wishes. I'm sure you know that many of us have been where you are right now. And I know the pain is still burning like hell, but remember that we do care. You <u>are</u> an outsider, but you know what? beyond those walls, on the other side of the goblin maze, on the true outside...that's where you'll find us. Waiting with open arms (and the occasional slack jawed drool). Welcome to the fringe man. Some of us are just as psycho as those in the inner circle of whatever ring of hell is popular today, most of us have put our hearts on the line and been burned. But above all, we are here and more than happy to have the company. Heh, come, join our reindeer games...
Love you man,
-Shade
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