Introduction:
Living Dead: A Girls Journey to Hell and Back
By: Erika Gloersen
She lay with her face submerged in the pillows when she realized she couldn’t breathe. Her screams were muffled and her tears absorbed. Would anyone ever notice the crippling pain she was in? It seemed as if there was no hope, no light. There was only eternal darkness. The drugs came heavy, the drugs came cheap, but she was still a prisoner of her own mind. Was it a prison she would ever escape or would she be stuck in the constricting chains of despair eternally? Forever night was the world which belonged to the girl with the empty soul. As she pushes the needle into her frail arm, yet another time. She wonders if the sun will ever rise. It seemed to be a neverending eclipse. How long must this façade go on and was it even worth it? Life was meaningless and empty. Why not end it now? Should she welcome that bottle of sleeping pills, which had been taunting her for months, into her hungry stomach?
Opium scented incense and the low, raspy voice of Lou Reed filled the room where she lie numb in a lithium induced state. She wants to feel again. The telephone rings, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she picks up a razorblade and cuts deep gashes into her translucent, beautiful, but scarred wrist. As the blood flows from her arm onto the bathroom floor a flood of relief overcomes her. Alas, contentment. She assumed she was alive. She saw the blood, felt the pain. Yet she felt dead as ever. Could she go on like this forever?
There was so much pain, loneliness, and misery. She had been prescribed almost every psychoactive drug in existence, but the monster of her depression was still devouring her, inside and out. Life seemed to be an ongoing battle against itself and she was definitely losing this round. She was rapidly beginning to realize that she was practically alone in this world and there was only one way out. This way would ensure that she would never feel again. Again, the bottle of pills seemed to gleam as they caught her eye. They had been tempting her for what felt like forever and like Eve she was about to take the forbidden fruit from the tree in Eden. It was the only way. She knew she had to do it. With little more thought she took the bottle in hand and swallowed a more than lethal amount of the drug. She laid down in the fetal position, tucking herself into her favorite blanket, waiting to die. She knew death was coming and couldn’t have been more ecstatic about the upcoming result. All those years of misery were finally going to over.
About thirty-six hours later she found herself in a white, fluorescent, and completely unfamiliar room where she was wearing what seemed to be a white gown. When she opened her eyes a little wider she noticed a man in a white coat looking down at her. She must be in heaven, she thought. When she opened her eyes even further she noticed the other people in what she now recognized as a hospital room, not heaven—her parents. She felt that life that she was ironically always dying to feel. Her morose was finally lifted. People did care and love her. How could she be so oblivious and selfish? She now started to realize that she had a lot of live for and thanks the God she previously thought nonexistent, for giving her another chance and the opportunity to live at last.
author's note: I wrote this many many years ago after my first suicide attempt when I was 15 years old, but I think it's a good intro. That's kind of when it all went downhill. The whole book's not depressing like this. There's wit, sarcasm, good times, and bad times.
thanks,
Erika
p.s. any recommendations would be greatly appreciated! xoxo
Living Dead: A Girls Journey to Hell and Back
By: Erika Gloersen
She lay with her face submerged in the pillows when she realized she couldn’t breathe. Her screams were muffled and her tears absorbed. Would anyone ever notice the crippling pain she was in? It seemed as if there was no hope, no light. There was only eternal darkness. The drugs came heavy, the drugs came cheap, but she was still a prisoner of her own mind. Was it a prison she would ever escape or would she be stuck in the constricting chains of despair eternally? Forever night was the world which belonged to the girl with the empty soul. As she pushes the needle into her frail arm, yet another time. She wonders if the sun will ever rise. It seemed to be a neverending eclipse. How long must this façade go on and was it even worth it? Life was meaningless and empty. Why not end it now? Should she welcome that bottle of sleeping pills, which had been taunting her for months, into her hungry stomach?
Opium scented incense and the low, raspy voice of Lou Reed filled the room where she lie numb in a lithium induced state. She wants to feel again. The telephone rings, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she picks up a razorblade and cuts deep gashes into her translucent, beautiful, but scarred wrist. As the blood flows from her arm onto the bathroom floor a flood of relief overcomes her. Alas, contentment. She assumed she was alive. She saw the blood, felt the pain. Yet she felt dead as ever. Could she go on like this forever?
There was so much pain, loneliness, and misery. She had been prescribed almost every psychoactive drug in existence, but the monster of her depression was still devouring her, inside and out. Life seemed to be an ongoing battle against itself and she was definitely losing this round. She was rapidly beginning to realize that she was practically alone in this world and there was only one way out. This way would ensure that she would never feel again. Again, the bottle of pills seemed to gleam as they caught her eye. They had been tempting her for what felt like forever and like Eve she was about to take the forbidden fruit from the tree in Eden. It was the only way. She knew she had to do it. With little more thought she took the bottle in hand and swallowed a more than lethal amount of the drug. She laid down in the fetal position, tucking herself into her favorite blanket, waiting to die. She knew death was coming and couldn’t have been more ecstatic about the upcoming result. All those years of misery were finally going to over.
About thirty-six hours later she found herself in a white, fluorescent, and completely unfamiliar room where she was wearing what seemed to be a white gown. When she opened her eyes a little wider she noticed a man in a white coat looking down at her. She must be in heaven, she thought. When she opened her eyes even further she noticed the other people in what she now recognized as a hospital room, not heaven—her parents. She felt that life that she was ironically always dying to feel. Her morose was finally lifted. People did care and love her. How could she be so oblivious and selfish? She now started to realize that she had a lot of live for and thanks the God she previously thought nonexistent, for giving her another chance and the opportunity to live at last.
author's note: I wrote this many many years ago after my first suicide attempt when I was 15 years old, but I think it's a good intro. That's kind of when it all went downhill. The whole book's not depressing like this. There's wit, sarcasm, good times, and bad times.
thanks,
Erika
p.s. any recommendations would be greatly appreciated! xoxo