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My entire life i have been in this messed up mental state. My earliest memory is of me dying. The following memories do not get better. Altogether through it all i have died and been resussitated nine or ten times. The first and third time i died i was murdered. Once with glass in my wrist to the bone, when i was five or six. Once again with a heavy glass ashtray against my cranium, cracked my forehead and bruised the prefrontal cortex of my brain. What killed me was the bleeding. The second and forth time i died were both accidental, once i fell from an oak tree, and then once again when i was run over unintentionally by my younger brother in a volkswagon. The other five or six deaths have been successful suicides in unsuccessful locations. Twice ive slit my wrists and bled myself out like a hog, to be brought back with stitches and a blood transfusion. Twice ive murdered myself with alcohol only to have my stomach pumped and system defibulated. And once when i ate 75 prozak, vicoden, xanax, addorrall , hydro, oxy, and a thick line of coke n meth mixed... no hospital saved me then... she sat by me for three days and held me close as i vomited and deficated and urinated and cried and died... she told me ive at least died twice... ...ive lost a bit of fmily and friends as well... a brother, a cousin, 6 uncles, four aunts, my first girlfriend, my first bestfriend, my first boyfriend, and over the course of years 15 friends have all ethet killed thereselves, been murdered,died naturally or accidentally. My daughter... was killed by her mother who then killed herself.... My sis is now a permanant resident at a mental health/rehabilitation clinic, and the rest of those alive have all either turned to drugs or alcohol or both to kill the memories... no body ever talks about it out loud... for fear of triggering someone else s episode... nobody visits the graves.... And i had to clean the eviscerated remains of my daughter out of the sink myself, the paramedics and police, and other county officials refused... ........yea... im depressed... and the meds dont work, wouldnt work if i even took them... and the ones that do work turn my into a retarded drooling vegetable. I am not a retarded drooling vegetable, i am am intelligent, though dyslexic, human man. The injury and heartache hasnt made me stupid its made me sad. So why do people want to treat me like im stupid? I flow through a thousand thoughts a minute. Ive written and destroyed novels, ive got an art portfolio of over three thousand finished sketches five hundred finished paintings seventy five wall sized murals. I can speak spanish, and a little bit of latin. I have a heart and dream and think and feel and love and reason with logical analysis of every conundrum i am presented with. But when anybody in my circle of friends and family is told about my manic depression suicidal ideation they immediately assume im special ed and cant even read... like theres something wrong with me like im fucking autistic or schizophrenic or mentally undevolopped...
