Sit down in the dark

Sit down on the dark.

Smile!

I hate you.

What?

I hate you

Why?

I just do

Stop it.

No

Stop it

No

Please.

No.

Why?

You deserve it

You think you are perfect

I know I’m not

You think you know

Forgive me

No.

...

I'll look back and laugh,

...or cry

I rather die than keep this up, it’s absurd... my life, the things I do, I’m so alone, I hate my life, I’m being the classical depressed teen... but this really goes beyond that, I’m lost, I’m so lost.... 

Writing doesn’t bring me pleasure anymore, I look at it, and it makes me nauseous. Where are you superman? come and save me, just come and fly me away, I’m just a boy, deep inside I’m just a fragile  little boy, that need to be rescued, rescued from himself.

(10 days late)

Why do I keep waiting?

No it’s not me, the one that goes and follows his dreams; it’s not me the one that moves against the flow to fulfill its goals.

It’s not me the one that will achieve the impossible or reach the stars.

Why not, you ask?

Because I am sick, I have to be.... if I am not mentally ill, then I am just one simple, ordinary, and slob.

I have to be sick; I have to have something that limits me, something that’s beyond my control, beyond my will.

If not, I’m just a looser... just human scum...

But no, that’s not me, I won’t be, I rather be ill, than be just some lazy bastard.

Does wishing this make me a coward? A miserable coward that just can’t accept that he is too weak, that life is just too tough for him?

I feel I failed, but I know I haven’t even started. I feel drawn into screaming for help, crying out for someone to save me from my own monotonous life and lack of will.

Why can’t I do what I want to do? Why can’t I make phone call or take a bus. Why am I here... waiting, for life to happen, for my dreams to come true?

Why do I keep waiting to be discovered, that someone will see something special and do for me what I can do...

When will I really be done, when will my options really be over?

Am I a cow waiting to grow horns? How exactly do you classify those who wish to be better, sincerely and truthfully, but never actually give a step forward towards it?

Now I’ll stay here and weep, weep over things that never happened and never will. Wishing I was someone, anyone... just not me.

(11 days late)

Why do you that yourself? ]

Why do you that yourself?

I know... the hair... is a mess.

Is it blonde?

I don’t want to talk about it.

Ok... but it must be eating you inside.

Yes, can we move on?

Ok, what bothers you today? I mean besides the hair...

OK!! Enough with the hair, its gross, and I am so embarrassed and I so want to die right now. Let’s just get pass this ok... let’s let the mistake "be"

Why? Why not get it better? Improve it somehow.

Because no one has told me I look like an idiot

You are waiting for someone to say that?

Yes, I’m sure someone will tell it to me tomorrow, or at least ill read it in their face.

You are so childish

Who said I wanted to grow up?

No one... but you have to anyway.

 Aren’t you supposed to be the positive one?

I’m not supposed to be anything; I am what I am...

Well so am I

You are?

Yeah, no?

You tell me...

What’s wrong with you today? You are so mean!

I’m not mean, you are being sensitive.

Great blame it on me then. I want to talk with someone else.

With whom? You got no one... that’s why you recurred to me in the first place, didn’t you?

Yes... but as I chose to speak with you I can speak with whomever I want.

Fine.

Fine.Shit, I want to die tonight.

If you really wanted to, you would.

I knew you would say that.

I wish I could have magic powers

Wait a sec, didn’t you wish the same thing when you were 14 or 15.

Yes I did, so what?

Nothing.

That nothing means something, common tell me,

Ok, it means you really haven’t grown up... your wishes are still the same. You just don’t change, you were miserable and pathetic and you are still miserable and pathetic.

I know! You think I don’t? I do!! And it hurts so much.... I want real therapy.

No you don’t, you want to be miserable and lonely and humiliated... you want to feel that way, and you choose to live that way.

Shut up.

Hi, I'm Xag

Hi, I'm Xag; I am 17 years old and live in Colombia. I think I have been depressed since I have memory, I'm an introvert, and I do not excel in any physical or academic activity. I have been feeling 100 years old since I was 10 and I think I can write a great story, which I started writing four years ago, but that by the time of this writing it’s barely on its third chapter.

I believe in three things: God, happiness and magic. Of all of them I doubt of from time to time.

I am a compulsive liar, prone to invent drama in my past. I wanted to be physically abused by my family or my classmates, thing which never happened. I don’t have now or ever had, any friends, and I have never been involved romantically with someone, I suffer from panic attacks when having to face new social situations which include sweat, itching and intense heart beating, especially at the time of having to make a phone call. It depresses me to see boys being happy, blond or in the beach and I love to see them suffer. I do not tolerate animal cruelty, but I encourage it in teens. I feel empathy with serial murderers.

I have suicidal thoughts every day since I have nine years, I've slept with a knife under the pillow just in case and  cut my wrists some times, I’m not sure if a cry for attention or because I really like it.

I hate public speaking, unless I am in a position of authority. I blame society and the misfortune of being surrounded by it for part of my unhappiness, as well as I blame my immediate and extended family. I'm shallow, masochistic and materialistic.

I criticize myself harshly at every action, and I have trouble forgiving my mistakes, specially the insignificant ones. I live with my mom who works two jobs and I'm afraid to be ameinian for the wrong reasons. I panic at the thought of changing for the better, either being improving the way I dress and act or applying for scholarships and contests that could reasonably only benefit me. I'm terrified that to continue living at home until I am 40 years old.

I think I have spoken with God, at a younger age I wondered if I was the reincarnation of Jesus and believed to be a martyr of faith. I remember the time when I was first aware of my existence. I always wanted to experience hallucinations, as well as a variety of other mental illnesses.

I daydream constantly and for long periods of time; it can be about having billions of dollars and all you could buy, or a tragic loss suffered unexpectedly, but mostly is about being confined to a wheelchair for life. (Now I’m obsessed with waking up at age 10, with all the memories I have now, and using them in the past for my advantage)

I have very specific tastes, most are complex stories that take my full attention, and even though most actually embarrass me to disclose in public. I dedicate an absurd amount of time to them. This includes also hours of daydreaming of how would be like to live in those worlds.

I hate giving and receiving gifts, I've always felt uncomfortable in my own skin because I was born to be beautiful, which I am not... I am very ugly. But very rarely I think I have an exhibitionist side.

I am submissive or dominant depending on the relationship you have with the other person. But I am mortified of being trapped in a role... I do not think there is true love for me in this planet, but in my imagination I am married with three others, they are my soul mates.

I like doing things alone, but I find it loneliness intolerable.

Otherwise I think I'm normal, mediocre, stupid and deadly ... and like everyone I believe I'm the most special person in the world.

The dream

I had the dream I had wished for, for years … I dreamt that I woke up from the dream my life was. At first I was watching a singer perform at the MTV movie awards, her microphone failed… she was lip singing. It was so humiliating, I ran into Daniel, this kid I met online, I asked him if he wanted to go tour around Germany (that apparently was where we were), he refused my invitation, I was so mad, how often I’m in Germany?.

Then a fat bald woman with a beard and in a white coat with goggles introduced me to “reality” a place similar to my home, but with the walls painted in bright white and red. She explained I apparently suffered from a disease, and I hadn’t waked up in years, been dreaming and assuming my dream was real. I was relieved, so relieved… my life wasn’t real.

I lingered, thinking, about what wasn’t real, my room, was similar to how it was organized when I was a kid. Then I felt sleepy. I felt pressure over my body, keeping me lying on my bed; I couldn’t move… like if I could feel the whole weight of “sleep” just pressing against me. I was falling asleep again… and who knows when I would wake up.

Today it’s my birthday... it’s the first time I forgot about it. Happy Birthday... You little piece of shit. August 30th, 2006 (8 days late)

I was crossing the street the other day rather recklessly, a car almost hit me a bystander gasped in horror.

I kept on walking, thinking I was idiot not looking before crossing, ten-year olds know that batter than me, It was people like me that make this fucking country the fucking shit it is, waste of skin, that risked what probably was a careful driver to being responsible for an accident a selfish bastard, mediocre loser, cancerogenous ulcer in life… etc.

Pretty harsh huh? I thought so too... and I wondered "wow is that me, saying those things?"

Silence.

It wasn’t me, the voice came from my head but it wasn’t me talking. Is that how people hear voices?

No, crazy people don’t know they are crazy But even if I’m not, keep thinking it can't be healthy... and I’m sick of thinking there might be something wrong with me, something wrong in what I think, in how I feel... I how I act... pretty much everything I am.

Today it’s my birthday... it’s the first time I forgot about it. Happy Birthday...  You little piece of shit.

(8 days late)

I had a panic attack

I had a panic attack, and afterwards I cut my hair.

I just looked in the mirror and hated what I saw... so I just had to cut it off. It’s now really short, compared to how I’ve had it through the last two years. people around me must think I’m losing it... they read a lot from my hair, first, red, then blonde the bluefish black now all unevenly chopped down.. Like if I had just been locked up in a mental institute...

On other subject, last Saturday, we had family reunion, about 4 hours of hell... and on the way home; we hit a guy with the car... blood, drama... I think those were 2 very hectic hours. I felt so useless, what bothered me was that to everyone I was one of the kids in the car, they didn’t let me get out and talk or say anything... not that I was jumping to do it, but still... I could have been 12 and would have made no difference.

(15 days late)

Tell me

"Tell me what kind of questions you ask, and what your answers are. Tell me who are your friends, and where do you spend your time, tell me what do you do in your free time, what do you expect of the future and how do you remember your past. All this things tell me who you are"

Those were words of my philosophy teacher today.... I didn’t like my answers to most of those questions.

(10 days late)

I failed at being blonde...

I failed at being blonde... 

I caught my little sister crying the other day, and she said to me "I just can’t do anything". I feel the same way; I can’t really do anything... I can’t even pull off being blonde. I can’t have a proper website; I can’t even finish a notebook, before I lose it in a classroom. I haven’t finished my sketchbook, or my JLU collection. I haven’t finished the first chapters of my book, or writing the Mikey's torment script. Whatever it is I haven’t finished it, I can’t really do anything.

My hair I bluefish black now... but it doesn’t look good without the makeup and black nails... but I feel I left that stage so far behind, wasted, and now I’m too old and it would look stupid to do it.

I know I’ll eventually go back to walking all over sunshine.

(29 days late)

Judgment

Judgment

Happening,

Steps back

From the gallows,

Assassin's hands

Without enough blood,

A warm body

And at his feet the tables of pleasure.

The lips of this street

Learn fast:

Gestures

Crossing windows

The heart awakens

Listening to heritage

Left hands together,

It is not easy to choose,

Not to choose,

Drop the gun ...

On time.

Luís Alejandro Galvis

Suaita (Santander - Colombia) 1973 - Socorro (Santander - Colombia) 2004. Suicide at 31, by ingesting 2 cyanide pills. 

May my death be fruitful. And force the meditation. So that those who can, learn the lesson.

From the suicide letter of Miguel Ángel Quevedo. Cuban Editor, Shot himself while living in exile  in Venezuela. 

We were all guilty. Everyone. By action or omission. Old and young. Rich and poor. Black and white. Honored and thieves. Virtuous and sinners. Of course, we still had to learn the incredible and bitter lesson: that the most "virtuous" and the most "honored" were the poor.

I die disgusted. Alone. Outlaw. Exiled. And betrayed and abandoned by friends to whom I generously gave my moral and financial support in very difficult days. [...] All dehumanized and cold abandoned me in "the fall".

May my death be fruitful. And force the meditation. So that those who can, learn the lesson. [...]And for the people to reconsider and repudiate those spokesmen of hatred, whose fruits we have seen could not be more bitter.

We were a people blinded by hate. And we were all victims of that blindness. Our sins weighed more than our virtues. We forgot Nuñez de Arce when he said:

"When people forget their virtues, it's a tyrant in its own vices."

Mourning a past that never was

Mourning a past that never was, is one of the main reasons I’ll never be happy. I can sit hours thinking and dwelling on what-if's, maybe-if-I-had’s and I-wish-I-would-have. I even day dream constantly, to the point of having to sit down an just do nothing else, about the possibility of just going back in time, with all this knowledge I have now of the things I’ve lived, and be 10 again... and just do all those things I know I should have done.

I forgot today to sign up for the subject I’m taking in collage... and I’m screwed... I’ll probably end up having a nightmare of a schedule... I don’t want to be early in the mornings again... but seems like I have no choice... I can hear already my mom’s lecture on the subject... "But if you are not doing anything! How can you forget to do something... when you have absolutely nothing else to do?”

I think bisexuality should be considered from now on as the perpetual state of sexual confusion.

I feel anxious… and anxiety goes hand in hand with depression...

I keep having dreams about people from school. Gosh, why, I don’t want to think about school anymore.

(20 days late)

The end of our elaborate plans

"This is the end, beautiful friendThis is the end, my only friendThe end of our elaborate plansThe end of everything that standsThe end
No safety or surpriseThe endI'll never look into your eyes again" 

- Marilyn Manson