with all these wishes i make, i should buy something real; at least a telephone call home.
...Okay, I am feeling a bit better now, also known as: actually eating.
I am going to tell the story, because I guess it is time for me to stop ignoring my emotions and get over the fact I am just human, too.
I am not going to tell this overly dramatic, or use any of my special theatrical effects, I am just going to tell it like it is and how I feel. If it sounds silly or you think it sounds sentimental or "gay" or stupid, then simply stop reading and just walk away.
I can not start this story off properly, because I said I wasn't going to tell it with any theatrical effects, so it renders me unable to really make anything flow properly. I stared at the screen for like 10 minutes trying to think of how to begin.
I don't know why I did it or why it happened, I guess everything was crashing down on me and crushing me and all this guilt, but I can't remember. I do not think I wanted to die. It feels weird calling this a "suicide attempt" because it was so much more complex than just a simple "I don't want to live anymore." I don't think any crazy thing I've done has ever truly been a suicide attempt. I see it less as "I want to die" and more as me doing a favor for humanity on a whole.
I will admit I know I haven't done very many bad things. Not bad enough to off myself. I am more frightened of what I might do. I know my friends and family do not want me to die, and they want me around. But it's not for them or about them. This may anger some people, I understand. I'm just saying I don't think you don't care.
But what I am saying is that, I have always... okay, so for ten years, I guess I should stop saying "Always" but really, ten years starts to feel like forever when you've only lived eighteen years, that's more than half of your life, you know... but: I have felt like there is a monster inside of me.
Odd, huh. I know. It's not new. I just stopped talking about it because I figured I had talked it down to death. Go back further to any of my journal entries dating summer of 2006 and before. It's there. You'll see it.
See, when I was fifteen, I was in the institute, and they put me on Seroquel. They thought I was bi-polar. Seroquel is a fun drug. That is sarcasm. Basically, by the time I was sixteen, I started to act nuts. Literally, crazy. It made me psychotic.
After I got off of it, because of all the weird crazy things I had done, I began to inherently... feel embarrassed. And ashamed. I wanted to erase all of my life from before that age, including things that had nothing to do with Seroquel. Seroquel didn't make me go berzerk until about January of 2006.
I guess I just wanted to reject myself, because, that's what people do, I guess. It wasn't the first time I had done it, when I turned fourteen, I wanted to reject everything I had been in the past because of the way I had acted when I was 13. It took me about a year until I was fifteen to realise nothing had really changed. Maybe some inconsistencies but the core had never changed.
In fact, I had tried to hard to block any memory of my past self that I actually have very bad memory for the age of being 13. It's tough. I can't remember very many things. It's stored away and locked up somewhere in the back of my mind.
So I did this entire process again when I was seventeen. For some reason, I kept thinking ignoring the problem worked best instead of just facing it and trying to fix it. I guess it's a lot easier to ignore shit than to deal with it. And I guess maybe I was just tired of trying to deal with it.
But yeah, after Darky broke up with me, I think all those things I had been ignoring just came back. She was sort of like a barrier between me and all those problems. She didn't know who I was before so I could tell stories any way I wanted to, omitting certain parts. Suddenly she was gone and then there was no barrier and it was like, Haha, Oh. There it is.
The point is, with all this coming back to me, I thought the same I always thought: There is something terrible inside of me, I am going to hurt someone, so I need to get rid of myself before I do anything. I am scared of being hurt and hurting others as well. In more ways than you all could possibly imagine.
So, I'm not sure if that's why I did it, but I'm betting it probably is. I just can't say that is definitely why I did it, because I can't seem to remember.
The rest of the story is pretty bland, and probably won't even be as long as that.
So my dad and I had a doctor's appointment, because I was already feeling quite sick, and not because of all the pills I ate. I told him what I had done, and he took me to the doctor's appointment, saying we'll "see what the nurse says". When we told the nurse she told me to go to the ER right away.
I do not want to disclose how many I took, but it was a lot. It was more than I had ever taken before. This was no silly "suicide attempt" where a kid takes nine acetaminophen and tries to make it seem more serious than it really is.
They took me back to the ER and the doctor walked in, and apparently there was some confusion about what I had taken. My dad had said aspirin, and the doctor walked in and asked: "You sure it was Aspirin?" and I said: "No, it was acetaminophen. It was Tylenol." I don't know how they figured that out, maybe the symptoms I was showing were different from an Aspirin OD. But then he said "How many did you take again?" and we told him x amount of 500mg pills.
So he walked out for awhile then came back (or maybe he left after the correct drug was identified and asked how much I took when he came back, but I don't remember) and then told me: "You took enough to kill an elephant," I don't remember exactly what he said next, because I just bursted out crying. He was then going on to say how acetaminophen OD is one of the most awful deaths ever, and how a lady had come in not too long ago and died, and about liver toxicity, and how we needed to pump my stomach right now.
And I was crying, and I have no idea why. All that was going through my mind was: "Stop crying. Why are you crying? This is a stupid reason to cry. " but what was spilling out of my mouth was: "I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die."
So they took me to get my stomach pumped, and I finally got myself to stop crying and toughen up and ready myself for whatever they were going to do. I never had my stomach pumped before. They got out the tube and told me to "swallow" and started pushing it down my throat. It was a horrible experience (they give you no numbing agents or anything, they just stick a tube down your throat), and twice I yanked it out. They were about to restrain me until they finally got it down.
Getting your stomach pumped is the most disturbing feeling in the world. When you swallow, it's like something is stuck in your throat. And several times, I almost started to cough it back up because I would swallow and there'd be so much mucus I could not breathe. After awhile though you get kind of used to it, you have to calm down anyway- if you try to pull it out you might get it in your lungs and suffocate.
That really wasn't the most disturbing part. That was just uncomfortable. The disturbing thing is that they don't just pump it out, they pump you in with fluids, and then pull them back out again. The liquid is cold, and you can feel it go down your throat, but you just feel the coldness moving down, not the actual liquid. And you can slowly feel them fill your belly up with the liquid. It is like drinking a huge glass of cold water down in under a minute. It feels gross.
The nurse sat and hold my hand and I was still kind of crying and the doctor and the other nurse were saying how pill fragments were coming up, quite a bit of them, and how that was good, and how I was doing good, and some blood was coming up too, apparently from irritation, but I don't know, because I was too scared to look, because one thing that gets to me are stomach fluids. That must be the only thing in the human body I do not like to look at, stomach fluids. That is why I can't stand the sight of vomit.
Then finally they said it was through and then pulled it out and I coughed up some blood on their sheets and apologized for it. And then I looked down at my shirt and the entire thing was dowsed with spit and saliva and I guess tears too, it looked like someone had poured water on the front of my shirt.
Then they took some blood to check my acetaminophen levels, and the doctor said if it was low they wouldn't have to put me in the ICU. So we waited for that while they made me drink charcoal, which is some thick black stuff and it got all over my hands and some on my pants and shirt, I hope I can get it out.
I didn't think it tasted that bad (once you drink things like cough syrup and bleach, you can stand anything) so I drank it down too fast. I thought I was going to throw up but then I didn't, but when the nurse took me to get a urine sample I threw up twice. It was pure black vomit. It looked sort of like when you put black sumi-e ink in water. It was gross; but I felt less nauseated after I did it and sort of better.
So the doctor came back and said my acetaminophen levels were sky high so they were going to put me in the ICU. I asked: "Am I going to die?" and he said I wasn't because they were going to stop the liver damage. That really didn't make me feel a lot better, but I guess it is better than being told "Yes".
They took me to the ICU, and they got me in the hospital gown, and the monitors on me, and the IV in me, and all that stuff. And then around 6 o'clock they brought in this paper cup filled with soda and apparently, an antidote. They said they were going to give me one every four hours because it will prevent liver failure. (I did not find out until now the antidote is N-acetylcysteine, if anyone is interested in all the science behind that, I won't go into it here.)
It really didn't taste that bad, but as I described it to one nurse: "It's like drinking some sort of chemical that really doesn't taste that awful, but you know you shouldn't be drinking it anyway." At least it was not like charcoal. And the nurse described its smell as "rotten eggs" although I'm not really sure what rotten eggs smell like but it did have a bad smell.
So I had to drink one of those every four hours which prevented me from getting really a good night's rest, plus they had to keep drawing blood to check my levels, so I have like ten puncture wounds in my arm. And to make this package even more wonderful, I was shitting black. It really wasn't that disgusting because it looked so much unlike fecal matter at all but when you started thinking about it it was a little gross.
That was pretty much most of the stay there. My dad stayed with me most of the time, he left around 11 PM and came back at around 7, then left for an hour because he was giving a test for his friend, then was there the rest of the time until they released me.
The nurses were generally nice to me and I was actually not a smartass for once aside from one nurse (who seemed to think I was stupid and didn't realise what acetaminophen did to my liver), my doctor (the one I normally see), and a social worker they sent in to do a consult.
My doctor aggravated me because she tried to sell me on Lexapro or whatever that shit is. I kindly told her I did not want to take any medicine, thank you, but she did not drop the subject, which made me more aggravated by the minute. I kept calmly refusing any medicine, saying I was not interested, and then she kept trying to sell me on it more.
So finally I started to get angry and acted like a jerk, but seriously, I had told her no already. I even logically explained why I did not want to take any medicine and she would not drop the subject. She had an attitude with me from the beginning, and once I looked to the side and it accidentally appeared like I was rolling my eyes (this is not the first time that's happened to me, I rarely roll my eyes) so she got really snappy with me and I got even more aggravated after that.
The social worker was the one I was seeing earlier this year who I think is a nimrod and absolutely stupid. I say this not because she is a social worker (we all know I don't like social workers), but because in my sessions with her I found her to be obnoxious, annoying, and incompetent. I'm sorry if that offends anyone but it was based on my personal experience in dealing with her. Basically, I just don't like her.
So she gave a "consult", like we do not know I have problems, and she recommended in-patient care (an institution), and we said no, and then made my dad and me sign this sheet saying we had ~refused~ the recommendation. The form made it sound like we were refusing some life-saving treatment.
I can't believe she would even recommend in-patient care, tbh. I've been in an institute twice and it obviously didn't work. I'm also not known for once I do something crazy, I go do it again the minute I am alone or out of a hospital. I even told her I wasn't going to kill myself right now, or in the next couple of days, not even the next couple of weeks, or even months (I didn't tell her I was really glad to be alive, I decided to keep that to myself) and I really, really didn't want to. My dad even said: "She's telling the truth."
Then later the nurse came in and said she had good news, that my levels were done really low and she was just going to run some IV antibiotics through me and I could go home. So my dad and I came home, and he had to pull over the car because I threw up three more times, but then I felt a bit better after that again (throwing up really does make you feel better if you need to), just highly exhausted.
I thought about a lot of things in there, because I really was scared I might actually die. And I realised if I died, from what I knew about acetaminophen death, I would not ever get the chance to get out of the hospital. I thought a lot about my friends, especially Lid, Vowels, and of course, Kuro.
I don't remember every passing thought through my mind, but I do remember that the one thing I wanted to tell Kuro was that I loved her and I wanted to be with her so much. I was scared that if I died I would never have the chance to tell her, because even if I had felt it for awhile, she wanted to wait for the "right moment" and I respected that and didn't want to bombard her with my own proclamation. She told me she would have known I loved her, but it still would not of been the same.
And I remember I just wanted to tell Lid and Kuro both I was OK, because they were the only ones who knew anything about it, and I was remembering some things Vowels said, that I don't feel like re-explaining cause this is already getting long, but yeah.
And it was weird because after that I suddenly care a lot more. Not just about life in general but I guess the people around me... people in general. In the hospital I was so nice to most of the nurses and occasionally I felt myself feeling... something. I don't know, but I remember when the nurse was washing my toilet seat thing (they had a container for all the stuff to go in instead of a normal toilet seat because they wanted to look at it and observe it) I apologized and said I knew she was a nurse but she still didn't have to go through that.
It was strange, because, I felt so very out in the open. Like there was no manipulation and no games and it was odd because my dad kept thinking I was playing games and not taking anything seriously, but the truth is I wasn't and I was, I just didn't express it properly, because I have trouble with that. I felt like, that was me, and here I was, and there was nothing to hide, and every one could look at me and dissect me and I wasn't method acting (playing a character most like yourself, because I don't really pretend, I method act) and there was no persona and it was... odd.
One thing I will remember, that ran over in my head over and over again, was the last two verses from "Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love and to be Loved)" by Bright Eyes. (You can download that here). After I was in the ICU, it was one of the first things I said to my father:
"Well I awoke in relief, my sheets and tubes were all tangled
Weak from whiskey and pills in a Chicago hospital
And my father was there, in a chair by the window
Staring so far away
I tried talking, just whispered, "So sorry, so selfish"
He stopped me and said, "Child, I love you regardless
There's nothing you could do that would ever change this
I'm not angry, it happens
But you just can't do it again"
So now I try to keep up, I've been exchanging my currency
While a million objects pass through my periphery
Now I'm rubbing my eyes, cause they're starting to bother me
I've been staring too long at the screen
But where was it when I first heard that sweet sound of humility?
It came to my ears in the goddamn loveliest melody
How grateful I was then to be part of the mystery
To love and to be loved
Let's just hope that is enough"
I don't mean to sound too dramatic with that addition, but it really was important enough for me to note, even if it sounds really silly.
And now, of course, because of lack of storytelling, I don't know how to end this, except I need to take this antibiotic and this huge potassium pill even if I am kind of scared to because I think I will gag or vomit, but you have to do what you have to do and that is that I guess.
Oddly enough, I really want some pizza. And one thing I learned in the hospital is they still show Night Court on TVLand at 6 in the morning. That makes me super happy because I love NC and thought it was off the air again.
I am going to tell the story, because I guess it is time for me to stop ignoring my emotions and get over the fact I am just human, too.
I am not going to tell this overly dramatic, or use any of my special theatrical effects, I am just going to tell it like it is and how I feel. If it sounds silly or you think it sounds sentimental or "gay" or stupid, then simply stop reading and just walk away.
I can not start this story off properly, because I said I wasn't going to tell it with any theatrical effects, so it renders me unable to really make anything flow properly. I stared at the screen for like 10 minutes trying to think of how to begin.
I don't know why I did it or why it happened, I guess everything was crashing down on me and crushing me and all this guilt, but I can't remember. I do not think I wanted to die. It feels weird calling this a "suicide attempt" because it was so much more complex than just a simple "I don't want to live anymore." I don't think any crazy thing I've done has ever truly been a suicide attempt. I see it less as "I want to die" and more as me doing a favor for humanity on a whole.
I will admit I know I haven't done very many bad things. Not bad enough to off myself. I am more frightened of what I might do. I know my friends and family do not want me to die, and they want me around. But it's not for them or about them. This may anger some people, I understand. I'm just saying I don't think you don't care.
But what I am saying is that, I have always... okay, so for ten years, I guess I should stop saying "Always" but really, ten years starts to feel like forever when you've only lived eighteen years, that's more than half of your life, you know... but: I have felt like there is a monster inside of me.
Odd, huh. I know. It's not new. I just stopped talking about it because I figured I had talked it down to death. Go back further to any of my journal entries dating summer of 2006 and before. It's there. You'll see it.
See, when I was fifteen, I was in the institute, and they put me on Seroquel. They thought I was bi-polar. Seroquel is a fun drug. That is sarcasm. Basically, by the time I was sixteen, I started to act nuts. Literally, crazy. It made me psychotic.
After I got off of it, because of all the weird crazy things I had done, I began to inherently... feel embarrassed. And ashamed. I wanted to erase all of my life from before that age, including things that had nothing to do with Seroquel. Seroquel didn't make me go berzerk until about January of 2006.
I guess I just wanted to reject myself, because, that's what people do, I guess. It wasn't the first time I had done it, when I turned fourteen, I wanted to reject everything I had been in the past because of the way I had acted when I was 13. It took me about a year until I was fifteen to realise nothing had really changed. Maybe some inconsistencies but the core had never changed.
In fact, I had tried to hard to block any memory of my past self that I actually have very bad memory for the age of being 13. It's tough. I can't remember very many things. It's stored away and locked up somewhere in the back of my mind.
So I did this entire process again when I was seventeen. For some reason, I kept thinking ignoring the problem worked best instead of just facing it and trying to fix it. I guess it's a lot easier to ignore shit than to deal with it. And I guess maybe I was just tired of trying to deal with it.
But yeah, after Darky broke up with me, I think all those things I had been ignoring just came back. She was sort of like a barrier between me and all those problems. She didn't know who I was before so I could tell stories any way I wanted to, omitting certain parts. Suddenly she was gone and then there was no barrier and it was like, Haha, Oh. There it is.
The point is, with all this coming back to me, I thought the same I always thought: There is something terrible inside of me, I am going to hurt someone, so I need to get rid of myself before I do anything. I am scared of being hurt and hurting others as well. In more ways than you all could possibly imagine.
So, I'm not sure if that's why I did it, but I'm betting it probably is. I just can't say that is definitely why I did it, because I can't seem to remember.
The rest of the story is pretty bland, and probably won't even be as long as that.
So my dad and I had a doctor's appointment, because I was already feeling quite sick, and not because of all the pills I ate. I told him what I had done, and he took me to the doctor's appointment, saying we'll "see what the nurse says". When we told the nurse she told me to go to the ER right away.
I do not want to disclose how many I took, but it was a lot. It was more than I had ever taken before. This was no silly "suicide attempt" where a kid takes nine acetaminophen and tries to make it seem more serious than it really is.
They took me back to the ER and the doctor walked in, and apparently there was some confusion about what I had taken. My dad had said aspirin, and the doctor walked in and asked: "You sure it was Aspirin?" and I said: "No, it was acetaminophen. It was Tylenol." I don't know how they figured that out, maybe the symptoms I was showing were different from an Aspirin OD. But then he said "How many did you take again?" and we told him x amount of 500mg pills.
So he walked out for awhile then came back (or maybe he left after the correct drug was identified and asked how much I took when he came back, but I don't remember) and then told me: "You took enough to kill an elephant," I don't remember exactly what he said next, because I just bursted out crying. He was then going on to say how acetaminophen OD is one of the most awful deaths ever, and how a lady had come in not too long ago and died, and about liver toxicity, and how we needed to pump my stomach right now.
And I was crying, and I have no idea why. All that was going through my mind was: "Stop crying. Why are you crying? This is a stupid reason to cry. " but what was spilling out of my mouth was: "I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die."
So they took me to get my stomach pumped, and I finally got myself to stop crying and toughen up and ready myself for whatever they were going to do. I never had my stomach pumped before. They got out the tube and told me to "swallow" and started pushing it down my throat. It was a horrible experience (they give you no numbing agents or anything, they just stick a tube down your throat), and twice I yanked it out. They were about to restrain me until they finally got it down.
Getting your stomach pumped is the most disturbing feeling in the world. When you swallow, it's like something is stuck in your throat. And several times, I almost started to cough it back up because I would swallow and there'd be so much mucus I could not breathe. After awhile though you get kind of used to it, you have to calm down anyway- if you try to pull it out you might get it in your lungs and suffocate.
That really wasn't the most disturbing part. That was just uncomfortable. The disturbing thing is that they don't just pump it out, they pump you in with fluids, and then pull them back out again. The liquid is cold, and you can feel it go down your throat, but you just feel the coldness moving down, not the actual liquid. And you can slowly feel them fill your belly up with the liquid. It is like drinking a huge glass of cold water down in under a minute. It feels gross.
The nurse sat and hold my hand and I was still kind of crying and the doctor and the other nurse were saying how pill fragments were coming up, quite a bit of them, and how that was good, and how I was doing good, and some blood was coming up too, apparently from irritation, but I don't know, because I was too scared to look, because one thing that gets to me are stomach fluids. That must be the only thing in the human body I do not like to look at, stomach fluids. That is why I can't stand the sight of vomit.
Then finally they said it was through and then pulled it out and I coughed up some blood on their sheets and apologized for it. And then I looked down at my shirt and the entire thing was dowsed with spit and saliva and I guess tears too, it looked like someone had poured water on the front of my shirt.
Then they took some blood to check my acetaminophen levels, and the doctor said if it was low they wouldn't have to put me in the ICU. So we waited for that while they made me drink charcoal, which is some thick black stuff and it got all over my hands and some on my pants and shirt, I hope I can get it out.
I didn't think it tasted that bad (once you drink things like cough syrup and bleach, you can stand anything) so I drank it down too fast. I thought I was going to throw up but then I didn't, but when the nurse took me to get a urine sample I threw up twice. It was pure black vomit. It looked sort of like when you put black sumi-e ink in water. It was gross; but I felt less nauseated after I did it and sort of better.
So the doctor came back and said my acetaminophen levels were sky high so they were going to put me in the ICU. I asked: "Am I going to die?" and he said I wasn't because they were going to stop the liver damage. That really didn't make me feel a lot better, but I guess it is better than being told "Yes".
They took me to the ICU, and they got me in the hospital gown, and the monitors on me, and the IV in me, and all that stuff. And then around 6 o'clock they brought in this paper cup filled with soda and apparently, an antidote. They said they were going to give me one every four hours because it will prevent liver failure. (I did not find out until now the antidote is N-acetylcysteine, if anyone is interested in all the science behind that, I won't go into it here.)
It really didn't taste that bad, but as I described it to one nurse: "It's like drinking some sort of chemical that really doesn't taste that awful, but you know you shouldn't be drinking it anyway." At least it was not like charcoal. And the nurse described its smell as "rotten eggs" although I'm not really sure what rotten eggs smell like but it did have a bad smell.
So I had to drink one of those every four hours which prevented me from getting really a good night's rest, plus they had to keep drawing blood to check my levels, so I have like ten puncture wounds in my arm. And to make this package even more wonderful, I was shitting black. It really wasn't that disgusting because it looked so much unlike fecal matter at all but when you started thinking about it it was a little gross.
That was pretty much most of the stay there. My dad stayed with me most of the time, he left around 11 PM and came back at around 7, then left for an hour because he was giving a test for his friend, then was there the rest of the time until they released me.
The nurses were generally nice to me and I was actually not a smartass for once aside from one nurse (who seemed to think I was stupid and didn't realise what acetaminophen did to my liver), my doctor (the one I normally see), and a social worker they sent in to do a consult.
My doctor aggravated me because she tried to sell me on Lexapro or whatever that shit is. I kindly told her I did not want to take any medicine, thank you, but she did not drop the subject, which made me more aggravated by the minute. I kept calmly refusing any medicine, saying I was not interested, and then she kept trying to sell me on it more.
So finally I started to get angry and acted like a jerk, but seriously, I had told her no already. I even logically explained why I did not want to take any medicine and she would not drop the subject. She had an attitude with me from the beginning, and once I looked to the side and it accidentally appeared like I was rolling my eyes (this is not the first time that's happened to me, I rarely roll my eyes) so she got really snappy with me and I got even more aggravated after that.
The social worker was the one I was seeing earlier this year who I think is a nimrod and absolutely stupid. I say this not because she is a social worker (we all know I don't like social workers), but because in my sessions with her I found her to be obnoxious, annoying, and incompetent. I'm sorry if that offends anyone but it was based on my personal experience in dealing with her. Basically, I just don't like her.
So she gave a "consult", like we do not know I have problems, and she recommended in-patient care (an institution), and we said no, and then made my dad and me sign this sheet saying we had ~refused~ the recommendation. The form made it sound like we were refusing some life-saving treatment.
I can't believe she would even recommend in-patient care, tbh. I've been in an institute twice and it obviously didn't work. I'm also not known for once I do something crazy, I go do it again the minute I am alone or out of a hospital. I even told her I wasn't going to kill myself right now, or in the next couple of days, not even the next couple of weeks, or even months (I didn't tell her I was really glad to be alive, I decided to keep that to myself) and I really, really didn't want to. My dad even said: "She's telling the truth."
Then later the nurse came in and said she had good news, that my levels were done really low and she was just going to run some IV antibiotics through me and I could go home. So my dad and I came home, and he had to pull over the car because I threw up three more times, but then I felt a bit better after that again (throwing up really does make you feel better if you need to), just highly exhausted.
I thought about a lot of things in there, because I really was scared I might actually die. And I realised if I died, from what I knew about acetaminophen death, I would not ever get the chance to get out of the hospital. I thought a lot about my friends, especially Lid, Vowels, and of course, Kuro.
I don't remember every passing thought through my mind, but I do remember that the one thing I wanted to tell Kuro was that I loved her and I wanted to be with her so much. I was scared that if I died I would never have the chance to tell her, because even if I had felt it for awhile, she wanted to wait for the "right moment" and I respected that and didn't want to bombard her with my own proclamation. She told me she would have known I loved her, but it still would not of been the same.
And I remember I just wanted to tell Lid and Kuro both I was OK, because they were the only ones who knew anything about it, and I was remembering some things Vowels said, that I don't feel like re-explaining cause this is already getting long, but yeah.
And it was weird because after that I suddenly care a lot more. Not just about life in general but I guess the people around me... people in general. In the hospital I was so nice to most of the nurses and occasionally I felt myself feeling... something. I don't know, but I remember when the nurse was washing my toilet seat thing (they had a container for all the stuff to go in instead of a normal toilet seat because they wanted to look at it and observe it) I apologized and said I knew she was a nurse but she still didn't have to go through that.
It was strange, because, I felt so very out in the open. Like there was no manipulation and no games and it was odd because my dad kept thinking I was playing games and not taking anything seriously, but the truth is I wasn't and I was, I just didn't express it properly, because I have trouble with that. I felt like, that was me, and here I was, and there was nothing to hide, and every one could look at me and dissect me and I wasn't method acting (playing a character most like yourself, because I don't really pretend, I method act) and there was no persona and it was... odd.
One thing I will remember, that ran over in my head over and over again, was the last two verses from "Let's Not Shit Ourselves (To Love and to be Loved)" by Bright Eyes. (You can download that here). After I was in the ICU, it was one of the first things I said to my father:
"Well I awoke in relief, my sheets and tubes were all tangled
Weak from whiskey and pills in a Chicago hospital
And my father was there, in a chair by the window
Staring so far away
I tried talking, just whispered, "So sorry, so selfish"
He stopped me and said, "Child, I love you regardless
There's nothing you could do that would ever change this
I'm not angry, it happens
But you just can't do it again"
So now I try to keep up, I've been exchanging my currency
While a million objects pass through my periphery
Now I'm rubbing my eyes, cause they're starting to bother me
I've been staring too long at the screen
But where was it when I first heard that sweet sound of humility?
It came to my ears in the goddamn loveliest melody
How grateful I was then to be part of the mystery
To love and to be loved
Let's just hope that is enough"
I don't mean to sound too dramatic with that addition, but it really was important enough for me to note, even if it sounds really silly.
And now, of course, because of lack of storytelling, I don't know how to end this, except I need to take this antibiotic and this huge potassium pill even if I am kind of scared to because I think I will gag or vomit, but you have to do what you have to do and that is that I guess.
Oddly enough, I really want some pizza. And one thing I learned in the hospital is they still show Night Court on TVLand at 6 in the morning. That makes me super happy because I love NC and thought it was off the air again.