Rocket Man

Flashes of different times, different places flash through my mind at the speed of light. My heart rate increases. My stomach clenches. My breathing becomes rapid and shallow. The urge to hit myself echoes through my wrists and into my hands. All this energy is screaming, dying to be released. I need to get it out. My chest feels like it's going to explode. I can't do this. I don't want to do this. It feels like the fibres of my being are being ripped apart. The firm grip I hold on myself begins to slip. Reality blends into film and I can't separate the two. I want to run away. Flipflopping back and forth I stutter and slice myself. It feels like madness is consuming me. I watch myself crumble; I'm vaguely aware of what's happening to me. It doesn't feel real. 

Am I enough? Enough to be loved? I remember watching the rain begin to fall over the Sandia Mountains. Everything was so cool and calm; it was as if everything was standing still and I would forever exist, breathless in this moment. The silence that washed over me when I'd look up at the rain and the greyish purples of the mountains was something I've never experienced before or since. Standing in a place I never thought I'd make it to. Living to an age I never thought I would. Now I can look back at all of these places, all of these adventures and see the age that I am now; it feels like I'm watching a film of someone else's life and not my own. I want to know what I can do to make things feel real. 

....

I love that moment when intoxication hits me. That moment where my thoughts begin to thicken and everything inside slows down. Whispers of self-hatred and the screams of agony are drowned out by the smell of the alcohol. Gulp. Gulp. Swallow. Every sip is one sip closer to freedom. I get to forget. Feelings seem to dribble out of me. I feel almost alright. For a short amount of time, I don’t have to be me; I don’t have to think about food, being made fun of, the notion that everyone around me hates me, that I’m better off dead.

Everything revolves around food. I look at all the colours of the fruits and veg, the shapes and designs of the packages. I take in all the different scents. You must always look, but don’t taste. I feel my breath caught in my throat every time I walk into a grocery. I hate it here. I think everyone is staring at me. They’re all laughing at me. “Look at that fat slob!” “Ew, why is he getting that?” “Doesn’t he have any self-control?” “Doesn’t he have any self-respect?” I can’t stand it. I sometimes get overwhelmed with all the choices. The lights on everything make everything hotter in the shop. The voices get louder and it turns to static, even with my earbuds in. It feels like I’m going to have a panic attack. I just want to go home and lay down without getting anything. What I think is worse when I go into the shop and I want everything. I just put it all in the trolly. I lose complete control. I bring home all this shit that I really don’t need. Shit that I binge and try to vomit out. Sometimes I can’t get it out and I end up feeling worse than ever. When I finish puking, I feel gross and my throat aches from the toothbrush. 

I don’t want to eat it all for a large part of the time; I’m just not hungry, I don’t think about food for the periods that I’m at work; I’m actually really uncomfortable eating at work. I have such anxiety over it. The eating in public places upsets me, but it's even worse when people I know are in a place; people who I have to see on a regular basis. My throat closes up and I can't chew. I don't want to chew. I don't want to eat. I feel like I'm being broken down.

 All these things are hitting me all at once and I'm struggling to make sense of new feelings and emotions. I'm torn between two blokes at the moment and there should be no reason for me to be, yet here I am being pulled in all these different directions. I have no idea what I'm going to do. I'm not sleeping well yet again. I'm drinking more to fight the worsening depression. It's been a while that I was so drunk that I was vomiting all over the place and couldn't stand up. I just couldn't stop drinking. I knew I was heavily intoxicated, but I was at the point that I didn't care. I knew that even if I stopped guzzling vodka and diet soda my blood alcohol level would continue to rise, but none of that mattered. Just more and more. I could barely breathe as I lay vomiting everything I had managed to put into me out. Most of the vomit was pure alcohol as I hadn't really been eating, which only added to my level of intoxication. I also took anti-anxiety medication earlier, I didn't remember that until I looked at my log the following morning. I'm destroying myself and for reasons that are not even fully clear.