I see a picture of flowers, fields and trees outside my window yet I see no colour.
I managed to get out today, took all my medication and I was on my way. But I don't know what's inside of me, I seem to have the fight and not the flee. Pictures of violence always fill me - sometimes a fight will release me.
I don't self harm and that's a fact because my pain is already in me, i just can't cope with people, 15 fucking words to say one thing, my brain can't take it. I stay away from people, too many violent tendencies. The urge to fight is too strong - better behind my four walls, I just don't fucking know. I shout at everything, I scream at the world. When my illness gets bad there aren't any feelings, dead emotions, just cold as ice. What a shit life. Thank God for my wife and children, they're the colour to my soul. Without them I'd be dead and gone.
Maybe it releases me from the torment inside, but this is only for a while. You cant release something thats embedded inside. The fights are fought blind, with any victim in sight. I can't feel no pain, i 'm dying again. Blood splashes my eyes and tears wash them aside yet everything is still the same, just another depressive day.
Within my walls everyday the same. Within my walls a hidden rage. Within my walls I feel sane. Within these walls. Within these walls.
I went to see the psychiatrist today, had to take double dose of diazepam just to cope with getting there. Stood outside, couldn't sit inside, having irrational thoughts again. Dont know what the psychiatrist has got this time, had so many different ones...well I'm out now, upped my dose on antipsychotics, said I was too agitated. Fuckin bollocks.
I hate taking meds. I hate being ill. I tried life without them for a while and I turned in to a recluse, never left the house for two years. It got so bad I even tried that hippy therapy crap, them people talk some bollocks, try this and that they say, it works for them. Im not depressed because I lost a job or a loved one or having no money, I don't care about these things. I've been ill since I was a child. My family all have mental heath problems. If this hippy shit works why are there so many mental asylums, fucking tree hugging animal shaggin weirdos. Don't tell me how to feel. Don't tell me what to feel because no one knows but fucking me.
Going on new meds today so I've got to withdraw off the ones im on, fucking worse than coming of heroin, three weeks of hell coming up, cramps, vomiting, anxiety, violent thoughts and yet no guarantee at the end of it.
Revenge fills my mind, Revenge puts my depession aside,Revenge is the reason i fight. revenge makes it all alright. Revenge is the reason for life. Revenge.
The following are extracts from Mario's personal log, and date back to over the last seven years.
My family surround me with positive light, my wife, my daughters keep me strong through this fight. But the devil he taunts me with evil thoughts and I'm losing my emotions; I was never taught.
Another day with more pain cramped up on the settee, stomach aches, head aches, wishing my life away, wondering when the fuck it's all gonna end - or is this what is meant for me? I don't know. Just took my medication, tripping out of my head yet the depression fills my time, still wishing I was dead. Slurring my words with blurred vision and mind, when the fuck is this gonna end? I'm dead inside.
I'm looking at the floor today, fucking red stains of mine again. Banging my head against the floor, the door, the mirror on the wall. Fucking sleeping in the day and yet I hear everyone around me, faint voices in the background, trying to pull myself out of this sleep. Cant get out. Screaming inside , but I cant get out. Takes me a while to adjust to my environment. Where the fuck have I been that I've missed another day? These days add up and become months, years..just another day.
MY ENDLESS FIGHT
MY ENDLESS FIGHT