Almost died 3 weeks ago

I knew it from the very beginning, so I’m not sad

That’s a line from the lyrics of “D.L.N.” (Dark Long Night) by The Gazette. The first part is true, the second part couldn’t be any further from the truth, actually I was heartbroken.

I had or have, I dunno, that one special friend. I really loved him (as a person, not as a man) from the very beginning, I also grew fond of him as a man but especially, I appreciated the person he is: Calm, friendly, down-to-earth, normal and eventhough he’s got a good sense of humor, he can be serious and mature when needed. Or that’s what I thought. Anyways, his calm and his helpfulness have worked wonders on my quality of life, I finally had a trustworthy, sweet and honest friend.
And again, that’s what I thought. However, being too attached to him, and him being rather shy and stuff, I knew from the very beginning that our friendship would end in tears and shards. I once told him I could no longer be friends with him, that he’d hurt me too much. That made him cry, but we talked it over and things seemed fine. The 2nd time, he told me, but not so nicely, and I was the one crying, then dying. I knew it’d end that way, I always had known. I’d push him too far, he’d hurt me too much, and we’d just clash hideously.

So yes, he’s always been very helpful and nice to me but I got a good “6th sense”. I can smell when something isn’t right. When people are hiding things from me or when they’re being dishonest. Which is why I have, at some point, started to doubt or friendship and its sincerity. Being a borderline personality, I appreciate honesty and my emotions, good or bad, are intense. Impressions also hit me harder than others. And with him, I’ve had that feeling, for a while, that he isn’t as fond of me as he once seemed to have been. By “once”, I mean him initiaing hugs and kisses (on the cheek, dumbass), starting conversation etc. I thought it was because I once got pissed off at him for lying to me and making me waste efforts in the process by pretending he and I and 2 more friends were still moving in together while he simply didn’t know how to break the news to me that he said so on a whim and doesn’t really want to live under the same roof with me. I saw him lying to my face but the whole truth reached me through another friend so I got pissed and sent him an overly emotional, angry mail. He apologized but what he doesn’t seem to understand is that an apology ain’t worth shit when you’re gonna do it again and again. He says I should change some of my behavior and he’s damn right, but so must he.

And that’s the thing. Why should he? My flaws have a name and a therapy. His probably don’t, so why bother? That’s his mistake. He thinks it’s enough to feel guilty and say so a thousand times, and go on just the same as before.

So now I got into a fight with another “friend” we share. That asshole ruined something for me that I was looking forward to, all because borderline bitch me said a few bad things on a few bad days. It was a vacation in Switzerland, our whole bunch of friends was going because my friend here, has a house there. So behind my back, little asshole had me voted out and my friend said that this whole thing was to his convenience because now, he finally had a “valid” reason to not take me along because oh my god, how to handle a crazy borderline bitch? Easy, when I’m pissed just leave me alone for 30 minutes. Everyone else seems to do just fine, only he was lying to my face about me being welcome to join in until the damage was already done.
But since Little Asshole was the one I fought with and the one who screwed me behind my back, I found that he was to be punished. Everyone will confirm that he has been an asshole. But he was still welcome to the trip, I was excluded. So one night I stayed at my special friend here, and Asshole’s external hard drive fell into my hands. I found photos on it that I had taken but definitely never sent him. WTF? So I thought, “Hey, you fuck me so you’re not enjoying my work, motherfucker!” and deleted them. My only thoughts were: Piss that Little Asshole off. It never even occurred to me that I would, by doing so in his house, break my friend’s trust.

And so the next day, he said the following: “Fuck off, I don’t wanna see you ever again”.

Having read those words, I sent the email he said them in, to my mum who I was chatting with, explaining why I was now gonna kill myself. She didn’t really take it seriously, but soon I went offline and also switched off my phone. That was the tenth of June 2009, the day the others departed to Switzerland.

Since I’ve been suicidal for a while, I had a 100 pills of Phenobarbital 100mg, and 100 Diazepam 10mg. And although the good sides of our friendship have worked wonders on me, the bad sides have always been hurting. His lying (by which he tried to AVOID hurting me but ended up doing so even more), his distance. And as I said, if I grow too fond of a person, I can react very intensely on an emotional level to everything they do. So him having said that, I posted a message on Facebook saying “I’m not home, don’t bother, but my pets need to be rescued 2 days from now”. By that, I wanted to guarantee my pets’ safety and at the same time, make sure I was dead by the time anyone’d find me.
I crushed the pills into powder and mixed them with some pudding. While falling asleep, I wanted to watch the Kubozuka movie I’d been looking for for 2 years but the region wasn’t compatible with my DVD player. So I just put on some music. Evanescence, sad stuff. Originally, my suicide plans (I’ve been having them since last December) were to first send my suicide note and last will to my friend(s) but I had just lost the one I’d trusted the most (eventhough he was the biggest liar of them all). So I didn’t bother and just put it in a visible spot so the police, or whomever, would find it and pass it on. I also didn’t bother going to the old ruin at the sea to off myself, I was afraid I’d change my mind en route. So the couch had to do. I took some anti-vomiting pills and something to speed up blood circulation (= speed up the effects of the other drugs), and ate the disgusting mix of drugs and pudding, then drank some alcohol just to be sure. Tried to slit my wrists but damn it hurt.

I put on some decent clothing (who’d wanna be found ungroomed?) and lay down on the sofa, smiling, I remember I was smiling. I never cried. I was a bit sorry, about my mom and my cats who loved me so much but I was glad, and hurried, to finally have found the “guts” to relieve myself from all pain and grief that had accumulated since the 90s. My heart had always been cracked and my friend had now broken it completely and I kind of thanked him for doing me this favor. I was finally determined to let go and rest.

2 days later, the first thing I saw was an orchid next to my bed. My hands were tied down, I had tubes in my nose and mouth. Things were over-exposed and I kinda noticed the presence of my mom who was supposed to be in Berlin, Germany, not Leuven, Belgium. Somewhat later, the nurses asked me whether I’d agree to be moved to the psychiatric facility in Kortenberg. I think I said yes, but I was in no state to judge or think, no word I heard or said was truly valid. But they still stuck me in an ambulance and a little later, I was, still totally out of it, I found myself locked up in a closed facility with surveillance cameras above your bed. 3 weeks.

3 weeks during which I’d lost my apptetite and didn’t eat in 2 days, at all. When they put me in a straitjacked in a dark room for no valid reason other than me complaining about there being no internet, I put my fingers into a socket, hoping to electrocute myself but nothing happened. In that solitary confinement room, they’d thrown me to the floor and just left me there with a sprained tailbone, stretched out in water I’d spilled. I hit the alarm button many times, crying for help, but no. They were watching me on video, but no help came. Hours later, I’d fallen asleep, they let me out, traumatized. I remember the first 3 days because I basically don’t. I was only dizzy, sleepy, drowzy, or sitting/lying on the floor crying. I remember crying and bawling out my friend’s name, sometimes accompanied by “I’m sorry”, sometimes by “How could you?”. But soon the whole department, the closed one, knew his name. It came in high amplitudes and frequencies from my room. I also remember crying about the flowers in the closed yard being mowed off. They were the only beautiful thing and I remembered begging an orderly to stop the lawn mower guy.

I had 4 messages on my voice mail from June the 10th. 1 was one of my best friends telling me he was gonna miss me in Switzerland (he had voted for me). He'd lateron visit me in the nuthouse. 2 of them were from an old friend who was worried and who told me that he had been the one who read my Facebook message and called the police. One message was from a cop, very friendly, worry in his voice, “Hello Anna, this is Jan from the local police department, we heard that you were about to kill yourself, please open the door and let’s talk things over.”. Of course I didn’t open, I was already gone. My mom then got a call from my mobile phone, relieved to see my name coming up. It was that cop saying, “Your daughter’s alive, though her condition is critical.”
They must have used those “1, 2, clear!” electro shockers on me, judging by the way my black gothic mini dress looked. Cut open and stuff. I was in intensive care for 2 days, then in the nuthouse.

Today, July 2nd, I was transferred to an open department specialized in borderline personalities, and there, I was free to go and I did. In the 3 weeks, I thought about a lot. About how my friend wasn’t pissed about the JPEG files, but about the trust I broke (what about mine he’d broken more than once, btw?). That he wasn’t ignoring me out of sheer hatred, but because he was scared and feeling guilty. That I could manage without binge eating. And that death feels nice when it’s sleeping pills. I was happy to leave, devastated to find myself alive and my Phenobarbital dealer arrested. I hated my friend for calling the police and for saving my life, because now I had been locked up with the pain of my broken heart, unable to escape.
My mom had taken care of me all the time, one friend visited and one called, both events had me burst into tears. My mom should have gone on a world trip, Berlin to Beiruth, she was looking forward to it but instead, she had to take care of her near-dead daughter. She’s an angel really.

I still feel like killing myself off. I also made sure I find another dealer. But as long as my mom is here, I won’t. I’ll try to live on for a while. Death didn’t feel so bad and I’m not shocked by my actions at all. I’m glad to know how easy it is when required. But right now, I don’t have the heart to waste my mom’s efforts. And the last bit of hope that our friendship be revived. Although I have a ton of things to throw at his head, from hurting me to insulting me, I’m very forgiving to my loved ones, and he’s one of them.

But dying felt okay. It was not really my friend’s fault, he only was the last straw. It was everyone’s and no one’s fault and my own, my personality disorder’s, the world’s, to hell with it.

I have no regrets trying to kill myself. I did it once, and people, when they did something once and don’t regret it, they will do it twice. Me, too. Not now, not tomorrow, maybe tonight, maybe in 10 years, maybe never.