blacksabba
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Oct 28, 2013
- Messages
- 5
Call me Ishmael.
Some months ago, never mind how long precisely, having little or no money in my purse, and finding nothing to interest me on this Earth, I thought I would sail about a little and see the oneiric parts of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth, whenever it is a damp drizzly November in my soul, or a dry, dreary July, whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin-houses and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet... then, my friends, I account it high time to get out of this world as soon as possible, and to dive into disconnection. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself on his sword; I quietly take to the intoxicant. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, all men in their degree, sometime or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings toward the sea of dreams with me.
I so chanced to come into possession of a host of problems peculiar to the human condition in the modern eras - all stemming from the desire to construct a sort of foundation on which to empower the self; economic, social, philosophical, and emotional growth. But alas! In their morbid wake, the seething waves of life, the moribund and somber rays of the classical existential dilemma, had all choiced to form into a most malformed and abominable tumorous mass feeding on my very ontological resources...
Is every morning a theater of ghastly miseries? What appoints such wicked memories to the anguish of a mundane soul? Consciousness darts away hither and thither like that ocean's gliding ghostly waves... strange shapes and shadows may suffer in the bound bleakness of those lightless abodes, where the most sorcerous arcana fly away like those prodding fragments of soul.
But such is!
Suffering from various mental ailments, I had discovered that I was soon to be allocated to the psychiatric hospital against my will. THERE WAS NO TIME TO LOSE! I immediately stowed away a bottle of clonazepam - this specific bottle containing 120 mg in particular - into a clandestine location situated in a location that none would care to venture... my lower undergarments. Soon I was transferred to Ward 12. Alas! Alas! Alas!
For three days I layed dormant, pregnant with the treasure within me. On the first, I took 2 mg of clonazepam.
On the second, I took 2 mg of clonazepam.
On the third, I took 2 mg of clonazepam.
But not on the fourth!
I was taking a shower in the bathroom. On the toilet, I placed the 114 mg of remaining tablets. As the hot water glistened on my body, I was perhaps ruminative of an impending and superfluous experience.
And then the gods spoke to me:
"IT IS TIME, ISHMAEL."
One by one, I took every single one of those 57 pills without regret. I covered myself with the towel and exited the bathroom. I calmly walked to the nurses and informed them that it is highly recommended that they reserve the span in which they have left for important tasks to be completed, such as the summoning of an ambulance. The nurses were highly confused by my cryptic statement. "Why does this rapscallion want an ambulance?"
Soon, I admitted what I had done. "I regret to inform you that my life is arguably perishing due to the administration of a particularly high dosage of a benzodiazepine."
Ha! Ha! In vain they attempted to induce vomiting. But it was too late. They called a doctor. I remember seeing her. Then, BLACK.
BLACK SHIMMERING AGAINST BLACK!
THE DEPTHS OF THE TEEMING SHADOWS!
Inscrutable apprehension perched aloft heaving and BLACKENED waters... what could it be that commands such inept desolation upon that arid burden that so speaks of brooding crepuscula? But the answer of a starlight's caress, under the seething and sagacious fogs... triumphant in vivid and outlandish DARKNESS; summoning the most solicitous visions.
Six times it abrased that sordid heart;
Six times that sickened blade,
Six times to the BLACKEST time's art,
Six times and to the shores of INFINITY wade.
Perfidious was the face of Death.
Perjurious and laced with destinies,
Imperpetual in gloom tressed,
Impermanent in robbed eternity.
If I had known Death was so beautiful, I would have died every single day!
Ah, as I took the 114 mg, before my eyes I saw the shapes retreat, and I saw the figures melt away into sun, sky, and shadow. I lost myself in its shearing eyes and spell. Until terrane began fading into dark and blacken! Baleful shades filled me, and I rode the stygian vapors!
I dive!
I fall!
And heaven bled into me.
Two days later I woke up in a hospital that was not very psychiatric, in a state of very limited consciousness and judgement. I do not remember what happened. But reportedly, I attempted to hang myself with bedsheets. Reportedly, I was uttering Satanic denominations which provoked my fellow roommate's family members to attempt an exorcism with religious literature.
Soon I was put into a wheelchair and taken back to the psychiatric hospital. It would take a week before the doctors could speak to me - I was suffering from quite severe motor impairment - my gait consisted of irregular hops. My mental status consisted of a mad euphoria. I was perfectly at ease with myself because I could not fully understand my surroundings. I couldn't understand what the hell was going on. And it was pleasant.
When I look back into my memory, all I see is a line of BLACK. I was in Ward 12 and woke up in Ward 42. But it was enjoyable.
Some months ago, never mind how long precisely, having little or no money in my purse, and finding nothing to interest me on this Earth, I thought I would sail about a little and see the oneiric parts of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth, whenever it is a damp drizzly November in my soul, or a dry, dreary July, whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin-houses and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet... then, my friends, I account it high time to get out of this world as soon as possible, and to dive into disconnection. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself on his sword; I quietly take to the intoxicant. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, all men in their degree, sometime or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings toward the sea of dreams with me.
I so chanced to come into possession of a host of problems peculiar to the human condition in the modern eras - all stemming from the desire to construct a sort of foundation on which to empower the self; economic, social, philosophical, and emotional growth. But alas! In their morbid wake, the seething waves of life, the moribund and somber rays of the classical existential dilemma, had all choiced to form into a most malformed and abominable tumorous mass feeding on my very ontological resources...
Is every morning a theater of ghastly miseries? What appoints such wicked memories to the anguish of a mundane soul? Consciousness darts away hither and thither like that ocean's gliding ghostly waves... strange shapes and shadows may suffer in the bound bleakness of those lightless abodes, where the most sorcerous arcana fly away like those prodding fragments of soul.
But such is!
Suffering from various mental ailments, I had discovered that I was soon to be allocated to the psychiatric hospital against my will. THERE WAS NO TIME TO LOSE! I immediately stowed away a bottle of clonazepam - this specific bottle containing 120 mg in particular - into a clandestine location situated in a location that none would care to venture... my lower undergarments. Soon I was transferred to Ward 12. Alas! Alas! Alas!
For three days I layed dormant, pregnant with the treasure within me. On the first, I took 2 mg of clonazepam.
On the second, I took 2 mg of clonazepam.
On the third, I took 2 mg of clonazepam.
But not on the fourth!
I was taking a shower in the bathroom. On the toilet, I placed the 114 mg of remaining tablets. As the hot water glistened on my body, I was perhaps ruminative of an impending and superfluous experience.
And then the gods spoke to me:
"IT IS TIME, ISHMAEL."
One by one, I took every single one of those 57 pills without regret. I covered myself with the towel and exited the bathroom. I calmly walked to the nurses and informed them that it is highly recommended that they reserve the span in which they have left for important tasks to be completed, such as the summoning of an ambulance. The nurses were highly confused by my cryptic statement. "Why does this rapscallion want an ambulance?"
Soon, I admitted what I had done. "I regret to inform you that my life is arguably perishing due to the administration of a particularly high dosage of a benzodiazepine."
Ha! Ha! In vain they attempted to induce vomiting. But it was too late. They called a doctor. I remember seeing her. Then, BLACK.
BLACK SHIMMERING AGAINST BLACK!
THE DEPTHS OF THE TEEMING SHADOWS!
Inscrutable apprehension perched aloft heaving and BLACKENED waters... what could it be that commands such inept desolation upon that arid burden that so speaks of brooding crepuscula? But the answer of a starlight's caress, under the seething and sagacious fogs... triumphant in vivid and outlandish DARKNESS; summoning the most solicitous visions.
Six times it abrased that sordid heart;
Six times that sickened blade,
Six times to the BLACKEST time's art,
Six times and to the shores of INFINITY wade.
Perfidious was the face of Death.
Perjurious and laced with destinies,
Imperpetual in gloom tressed,
Impermanent in robbed eternity.
If I had known Death was so beautiful, I would have died every single day!
Ah, as I took the 114 mg, before my eyes I saw the shapes retreat, and I saw the figures melt away into sun, sky, and shadow. I lost myself in its shearing eyes and spell. Until terrane began fading into dark and blacken! Baleful shades filled me, and I rode the stygian vapors!
I dive!
I fall!
And heaven bled into me.
Two days later I woke up in a hospital that was not very psychiatric, in a state of very limited consciousness and judgement. I do not remember what happened. But reportedly, I attempted to hang myself with bedsheets. Reportedly, I was uttering Satanic denominations which provoked my fellow roommate's family members to attempt an exorcism with religious literature.
Soon I was put into a wheelchair and taken back to the psychiatric hospital. It would take a week before the doctors could speak to me - I was suffering from quite severe motor impairment - my gait consisted of irregular hops. My mental status consisted of a mad euphoria. I was perfectly at ease with myself because I could not fully understand my surroundings. I couldn't understand what the hell was going on. And it was pleasant.
When I look back into my memory, all I see is a line of BLACK. I was in Ward 12 and woke up in Ward 42. But it was enjoyable.
