ward
In response to the previous entry, some people are probably wondering what the Hell happened to me.
To put it simply, the problem was not a Love Triangle, but more of a Love Dodecahedron of epic proportion. I guess after doing nothing but helping other people for the last three weeks, talking about their problems, giving them advice and support, I finally cracked and outright snapped under all of it. I've had a horrific life, and I've learned to deal with even the most insane pressure and stress, but this was a level I never expected to befall me.
So I tried to kill myself--and nearly succeeded. I have something of a good hiding place that I went to, where no police nor any cars, helicopters or otherwise managed to find me for two consecutive hours. All I can say is, everything happened the way it was "supposed to," since I've finally found a chance to grow where I never have in the last six years.
I already talked about what happened when I started walking home, the problem with that is I only started going back home after police told me they had a Chaplain waiting for me at my house. If not for that, I'd have just stayed where I was, since despite what I had done to myself, I was perfectly fine. I never passed out, threw up, nothing. I just chilled and talked to God for a while, praying to Him.
When I'm about five minutes from my house, in a perfectly refined mindset, absolutely content and satisfied--happy with myself and my life, did everything start to spiral downhill. Six police cars and about ten officers are out handcuffing me, after saying they won't handcuff me. No Chaplain is anywhere to be found, and they throw me into the back of a squad car despite the fact I don't resist them in any way.
The police even have a recorded record of me clearly stating; "Suicidal tendencies? Hell no. I love myself because I'm awesome. I just want to go talk to my friends, because psychiatrists don't do anything for me, because I'm not insane."
They still took me to a hospital to check my blood and urine--which took FOUR HOURS somehow. All the while, they were trying to make me piss in jars while some jamaican guy stood five feet away from me with the curtain wide open to the rest of the hospital. I guess privacy doesn't exist in their country.
I ended up getting transferred to a mental health clinic, government-run. It took 14 hours for them to put me in a ward which was about 30 feet away, and had to wait until the next day to talk to their psychiatrist for him to evaluate me. During that period, I had to ask for 19 hours straight to get a pillow for my freezing-cold bed, and wasn't given any medicine for the pneumonia I've been battling for two weeks recently. It took me 35 hours to get a pair of shoes to wear too--really good care I got there, let me tell you.
But I met some interesting people there. In specific, all the people that were calling me Jesus Christ, healer of the afflicted.
All the while they saw how I was treated instead of them, and a few of them were just drawn straight into me for seemingly no reason. People were asking me for permission for everything they did--claiming that I was engulfed in the presence of Angels.
So even at the bottom of one of my life's stories, all I did was talk to others and sort out their problems in ten minutes--while psychiatrists couldn't do it in the last five months, to the last three years. Even the staff started to fall in love with me, to the point a few female staff members were hitting on me because they saw I wasn't out of my mind, trying to score a date with me.
I saw a lot of beautiful people there, that's for certain. I got to see the human spirit when society plays no role in their lives. I saw true joy for what it really is, true emotion unbound by anything. People were saying God sent me to them to help them, and again, calling me the answer to their prayers. Ignoring their Chaplain and talking to me instead, etc.
Again, like in the Air Force, I was dealt an unfair hand for 45 minutes of really bad depression, and all I did was change and better the lives of everybody around me.
Can I ever stop being awesome and incredible? I fucking doubt it.
Yeah, I certainly sound like someone who hates himself and wants to die. Give me a break.
To put it simply, the problem was not a Love Triangle, but more of a Love Dodecahedron of epic proportion. I guess after doing nothing but helping other people for the last three weeks, talking about their problems, giving them advice and support, I finally cracked and outright snapped under all of it. I've had a horrific life, and I've learned to deal with even the most insane pressure and stress, but this was a level I never expected to befall me.
So I tried to kill myself--and nearly succeeded. I have something of a good hiding place that I went to, where no police nor any cars, helicopters or otherwise managed to find me for two consecutive hours. All I can say is, everything happened the way it was "supposed to," since I've finally found a chance to grow where I never have in the last six years.
I already talked about what happened when I started walking home, the problem with that is I only started going back home after police told me they had a Chaplain waiting for me at my house. If not for that, I'd have just stayed where I was, since despite what I had done to myself, I was perfectly fine. I never passed out, threw up, nothing. I just chilled and talked to God for a while, praying to Him.
When I'm about five minutes from my house, in a perfectly refined mindset, absolutely content and satisfied--happy with myself and my life, did everything start to spiral downhill. Six police cars and about ten officers are out handcuffing me, after saying they won't handcuff me. No Chaplain is anywhere to be found, and they throw me into the back of a squad car despite the fact I don't resist them in any way.
The police even have a recorded record of me clearly stating; "Suicidal tendencies? Hell no. I love myself because I'm awesome. I just want to go talk to my friends, because psychiatrists don't do anything for me, because I'm not insane."
They still took me to a hospital to check my blood and urine--which took FOUR HOURS somehow. All the while, they were trying to make me piss in jars while some jamaican guy stood five feet away from me with the curtain wide open to the rest of the hospital. I guess privacy doesn't exist in their country.
I ended up getting transferred to a mental health clinic, government-run. It took 14 hours for them to put me in a ward which was about 30 feet away, and had to wait until the next day to talk to their psychiatrist for him to evaluate me. During that period, I had to ask for 19 hours straight to get a pillow for my freezing-cold bed, and wasn't given any medicine for the pneumonia I've been battling for two weeks recently. It took me 35 hours to get a pair of shoes to wear too--really good care I got there, let me tell you.
But I met some interesting people there. In specific, all the people that were calling me Jesus Christ, healer of the afflicted.
All the while they saw how I was treated instead of them, and a few of them were just drawn straight into me for seemingly no reason. People were asking me for permission for everything they did--claiming that I was engulfed in the presence of Angels.
So even at the bottom of one of my life's stories, all I did was talk to others and sort out their problems in ten minutes--while psychiatrists couldn't do it in the last five months, to the last three years. Even the staff started to fall in love with me, to the point a few female staff members were hitting on me because they saw I wasn't out of my mind, trying to score a date with me.
I saw a lot of beautiful people there, that's for certain. I got to see the human spirit when society plays no role in their lives. I saw true joy for what it really is, true emotion unbound by anything. People were saying God sent me to them to help them, and again, calling me the answer to their prayers. Ignoring their Chaplain and talking to me instead, etc.
Again, like in the Air Force, I was dealt an unfair hand for 45 minutes of really bad depression, and all I did was change and better the lives of everybody around me.
Can I ever stop being awesome and incredible? I fucking doubt it.
Yeah, I certainly sound like someone who hates himself and wants to die. Give me a break.