Will your vision board cure me?
Because I need a god damn miracle.
Ever wanted to kill yourself? Ever wondered what it would be like on the other side? Is it freeing? Does the pain go away? Do the obsessive thoughts go away? Are you happy or do you feel nothing? Is it all a black hole? Do you float around in nothingness? Are you in water? Is ther music there and food? How does it all work? Is it cold? Do you have a house?
Don’t you ever just….want to find out?
I have been brushing with the dangerous thoughts of finding out lately.
The thousand cuts on my leg tell me that it would be paradise yet, the Zoloft and Adderall tell me paradise is here, on earth, with the people who pretend to love me only when something is VERY wrong, like when they hear the word “suicide” and the rest of the time you’re just a bother to them. A text they don’t want to respond to and a call sent straight to voicemail. Let’s not forget the money hungry psychiatrist and psychologists that also make you believe that paradise is all within your head once you’ve swallowed all these pills and have released the angry by throwing fucking rock in the middle of a field…
Where is there real peace? Inside your mind? By swallowing pills daily? Do we really all believe in that mindfullness, positive thinking bullshit? Have we all gone down that shallow road now? Is that the new fad? Morning affirmations on how beautiful and successful I we are yet some can barely get out of fucking bed and brush their teeth? Is this paradise? Will these stupid sentences really make it all better? Will thinking about the time I was rapped at 14 go away because I thought positiviely for a minute? Or because I fucking meditated for 30 minutes? Or because i fell asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the shore… Is that the secret to a better world? Is that the big secret to not wanting to cut yourself for the thousandth and one time? The one that will give you all the answers you’ve been wondering about, while crying in your bed late at night. Will cutting and pasting pictures of money, mansions and BMW’s really make me believe I will get this crap, and finally throw away the blades? Will all this shit really make me feel alive and healthy and moderately happy?
Will forcing myself through an anxiety attack to enter the gym really the answer to…not having anxiety? Will going for a walk with my dog really help me cure the deep fucking depression that is growing at every corner or my mind? Do you really expect this weighted blanket to give me the best nights sleeps and keep all the nightmares at bay so i can finally stop sleeping with the lights on? Do you think this diet is it? Chocolate and no sofa, fuck the bread and pasta and boom, depression gone?
Do you really want me to believe that you will be there for me at 4:56 am when I wake up drenched in sweat from a nightmare? Will you pick up that call and drive to my house and help me fall back asleep…Nah, you’ve got work in the morning, price gas has gone up, your girl is staying over…I get it man, I get it. You want to help but like, not real help. You say you want to help to make yourself feel better.
But once I’m in paradise, look at your vision board, repeat you morning mantras, meditate and pray that im floating in warm nothingness, pain free.
About the Creator
Anik Marchand
Anik Marchand moved from New Brunswick to Southern Ontario at a young age, lived some crazy moments in Montréal, and is now based in Madrid, Spain.
E-mail: [email protected]
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