Looking someone in the face, deadpan, and telling them you want to kill yourself is a surprisingly haunting thing to do.
Telling people I felt suicidal was an incredibly cumbersome matter. Whilst I felt nothing they felt a lot, they cried, yelled and hit me to express that. I however continued to saunter around feeling irrelevant and crazy, Whilst attempting to comfort people who were upset that I felt so dejected. My absence of feeling towards dying did make me realise that I was starting to feel something, indifference. Indifference was the first feeling I had really felt in a long time.
Realising I was possibly making some progress on my quest to regain emotion was a big step forward (not one I regarded very highly.) This step forward did not stop me from lying in the foetal position on the living room floor, with a look of pure terror on my face uttering eerie noises, that I assume some kind of dying animal would make. I wasn’t attempting to cry, I didn’t do that anymore, these were the last scraps of emotion slowly trying to slither out of me. At this point even my cat had stopped waddling over to lie next to me in silence.
Lying on the floor in silence is surprisingly hypnotic and cleansing.
If I was to say i’m over these feelings now id be lying, i’m not. I don’t think its as easy as simple as “getting over it”
The Elephant in the Room.