1. This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this site, you are agreeing to our use of cookies. Learn More.

Letter to me. feel free to ignore.

Discussion in 'Rants, Musings and Ideas' started by jameslyons, Feb 12, 2009.

  1. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    I think I hate you.

    There's always been a deadline. Best to keep with it. Remember, you've been on borrowed time for a while. Oh, by the by, how is that escape to Europe working out for you :D.

    You've squandered every possible opportunity in your life. In fact your life is more defined by your failures than anything else, isn't it? I really wish you had bigger balls and would just go for it.

    It was better when life was crumbling apart. Then you had an excuse to be sad. now? None. Welcome me back, James. I've been waiting for you with my jaws open and rotting with ulcers. I can't wait to bite into your flesh again.

    Oh, don't be scared. You know me. You need me. I define your life and always have. Welcome me back with open arms. I am so happy to see you again! I mean, for a while there, I was nervous, but the cuttings back, the ennui, plus there are NEW mistakes to harp on! James , my boy, I missed you!

    I'm like the scarf wrapped around your neck right now - trying to hide the bloody bandage from your classmates? Oh...this is too nice. :laugh: I can't wait for you to go to class today and make a jackass of yourself! How's your tooth feeling anyway...and how did that doctor's appointment go?

    Hmmm... you didn't go? You mean you failed again? You're such a boob! Anyhow, bud, you best get to writing your assignment. But just wanted to stop by and say hi.


    Your closest, eternal friend.



    Hey raise your hands if you've ever been molested and behaved like a jackass before! :) Oh, jeez, James...didn't see you there. That was so tasteless of me. Sorry.
  2. fromthatshow

    fromthatshow Staff Alumni SF Supporter

    I write to my depression all the time. Depression definitely can be your closest friend. It was mine for a long time. That and panic. Still is a lot of the time I guess. It's there for you. Isn't that something to appreciate though? That it was there for you? Even if his eyes were dark and he liked to fuck shit up, he was still there for you. But someday it won't define you. Someday you'll say, you know what, thanks for everything depression but I've made some new friends and it's time to say goodbye. And depression will just say, well if you ever need me again, I'll be here :).
  3. Mightbehere

    Mightbehere Well-Known Member

    hmm this gives me an idea to write one to myself.
  4. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    ***:) to the up aboves ***

    James, you've been disappointing me today. Where are your tears of frustration (that's right, you don't cry), your gnashed teeth or expletive heavy rages? You need to remember that I control you. I am the only thing guiding you forward in life.

    Try to help others. Try to help yourself. I haven't the slightest concern what exactly you try to do with yourself, because I know you'll fail in the end. And that's why I'm here to watch. So get comfy with your ridiculous plans on being successful.

    Allow me the time to insult your dialog and writing capabilities of late. There's no possible way you'll manage to win that essay contest, trust me, bud. Do you hear me!? You won't win! You could use a drink, no? How about a nice cool martini? How about a thermos full of delicious dry vermouth and chilled gin....mmmm. Sounds good, doesn't it? You know Ann Sexton drank thermoses full of martinis. Truman Capote too- now that guy could write dialog. Don't you want to be a writer? How about a nice writer's drink?

    Just reminding you about how much of a drunk you are :)

    In addition, remember how pretty Sexton and Plath were. And both of them just loved the crazies. Like Scott Fitzgerald, Sexton was happy to mimic and associate the behaviors of the people alongside her in the Sanitariums - let's be honest, pal. That's what they are and that's what you know, eh?

    You're shallow, superficial, and an Echo of The Jazz Age; just a stray tuxedo weaving among the merry and sometimes weary faces of the other tuxedos and dresses that shrunk and will grow in four years or so. Just a tuxedo with a sickly grin weaving its way to the deck of the apartment so high above the ground. just a tuxedo that falls off, later to be occasionally thought about by a few thin set men and women whose own tuxedos and dress have been rotted yellow with starch, and whose nails are stained with tobacco and whose marriages have deteriorated.

    Just an Echo of the Jazz Age - that's all you'll ever be.

    Just a friendly reminder :)

    Your best pal ever!

    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 16, 2009
  5. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    Dear Depression,

    "Since I last saw you I've tried to get married & then tried to drink myself to death but foiled, as have been so many good men, by the sex and the state I have returned to literature."
    --Scott Fitzgerald to Edmund Wilson

    I have started a new short story that discusses in some detail the first morning after sleeping with C. so long ago. A particular discussion yesterday got me thinking of how unique she was in regards to her forced innocence in direct regard to her virginity - she did not attempt to compensate her lack of experience with pornographic imagery or mimicry. I'm not certain if that is a suitable story though and was wondering if you had any suggestions in specific regards to the errors of narrative plotting and flow theory with a direct focus on the point of antagonism in such memory subjective diarist entries. I am thinking of copying the style brought forth by Anais Nin, but I'm afraid it'll come out dull and boring.

    You will be happy to know, my friend, that I have received interest in a short story for a small literary magazine in Los Angeles. And even though the publisher would pay, pending on acceptance, only twenty-five dollars. It is something.

    James Patrick
  6. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member


    I write this to inform you that your behavior in the past two class periods have been noted and are wholly unacceptable. I haven't had a drop of alcohol in over a day and it's becoming quite difficult to carry on. This is a problem.

    The day's coming to an end though -- perhaps night is more appropriate. I want you to know that I see through your tricks and suicide is suicide. Don't try to convince me otherwise. I won't be so naive as to fall into the same ...

    It's a forgone conclusion. But I have at least the intelligence to strive for another way. . . the depth is coming on to play an encore number. Damn you!
  7. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member


    I wanted to jot you a letter with a quick thought. Isn't it humorous that regardless of the position you're in, you want to kill yourself? I find it hilarious and often laugh myself to sleep over it.

    Quick preview of a later journal entry brought to you from the wonderful aroma drifting about empty spirit bottles:

    *James roommate has been subtly and overtly asking him to go to bed with her.

    *I've been sticking my hand down his throat in class.

    * He lies when he says he couldn't write. He came up with a great line in a class while watching a classmate discuss a piece of music. "It feels like it's Monday October 28 1929 and the party's going to run until the gin drys up " - He'll edit it later. Either way, James plans on killing himself again.

    Just thought I'd share that for you, Jimmy :)

    Eagerly anticipating the final flourish (and don't pretend you aren't either)

    Your best mental illness, sticking on you through the thick and thin,

  8. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member


    I have you again, don't I? You know what your problem is, my boy? You are too manipulatable for your own good. Welcome back to feeling blue- :)

  9. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    Showering everyday, but recently stopped using soap.
    Sleep impaired.
    Withdrawing from friends
    Method planned
    Fasting begins
    Packing up room.

    You , Depression, are coming to a head. And once again we must battle, you and I. It's you or the hospital looks like.

    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 22, 2009
  10. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    God, I can't do this anymore. I just spent the whole day packing up my closet and shelves so that they'd be ready to go after I killed myself by [method]. I've been drinking fucking mouthwash to get a bit of alcohol. I haven't any friends or lovers - not because I'm a disagreeable person, but rather because I don't answer the phone and only pursue women who I haven't a slight interest in.

    I've been going into the shower, standing under the hot water and barely moving my hands. When I don't think of killing myself by [edit] I'm thinking about gutting the crutch of my arm or neck. In acting class I had to say , "Don't you know?" As somebody pointed out the two fresh cuts on my neck over older scars, "I regularly fly out to Cairo for poker and knife fights on the Nile."

    Honestly proper hygiene of my teeth has been too much for me the past three days. I can't hang out with anybody; not even when I should like at my brother in law's birthday. I can't talk with anybody and I'm not quite sure how to fix my mistakes. Yes, I feel guilty. Yes, I've been planning suicide. I don't know how to show any more remorse than that. But that behavior, don't you know, is manipulative. Why are you being manipulative on top of it all, James?

    The only thing, honestly, keeping me from suicide is that I don't have the money for heroin or a gun. That's it. And I don't want to kill myself. I really don't. But I don't know any other way of dealing with this black hole. I can't function anymore. And I just wanted to let everybody know that if I end up doing it, it's because of this fucking disease.

    It's killing me.
  11. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    I'm heading off to class and rehearsal now - in the pj's I've been wearing all weekend. Can't really build up the stamina to get dressed. I'm going to skip acting class; the idea of going to the bank today to deposit some checks made me cry :blub:

    I really can't take much more of this. But the damn dates are all wrong. The problem with such a large family is that it's always somebody's birthday - and you can't kill yourself on somebody's birthday. Bad taste. The next open date is the 25th.

    I need to talk with a counselor today.

    [Edit: Are you fucking kidding me!? Lucy's birthday is the goddamn 25th ....I ccan't begin to describe how miserable I feel right now. And I'm going to be late for the damn rehearsal. :badday: ]
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 23, 2009
  12. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member


    Haven't much willpower to respond to PMs or anything like that. I feel fat and gross and unlovable right now. But I'll have you know, old friend, that I don't feel like killing myself today. :unsure:

    I think I would kick your ass if I got some medication, D.


  13. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    I went shopping today - I cut into my rent money :(. And at the store they had a deal - two crappy bottles of wine for five dollars. Holding those pollutant rich nipples in my hand I started to shake and then teared up. I stood there in the store - dressed and showered I'll have you know - just standing in place and wanting none of the crap. Wanting to not be there, wanting to just make a scene and be put into a hospital - no rent, no bills, no phone or friends or school. No James, I'd just be a catatonic bastard sucking at California's empty bank account. I wanted to lie onto the floor and cry like I did when I was younger and my mother wouldn't buy me Captain Crunch. I wish I could go back to that kid and be him again. The first suicide attempt really set the tone for my life.

    I put the bottles down, then completed my shopping - only spending fifteen dollars. But on my way out I saw that they had a cigarette sale - two regular Marlboro packs for three dollars. I stood at the display case for a couple of minutes before leaving the store.

    Class was ditched today. I hate being left alone by myself. I'm such a socially inept, goddamn fraud :blub:.

    My sister told me I'm not really depressed. I should just give her calls whenever my mood dips. Then it'll raise, then a couple hours I'll call again. Again and again and again. I've lived with these dips (but no manic periods- thanks God :mad:) for over a decade. How long could she stand listening?
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 25, 2009
  14. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    Dear D. Thanks for the invite!

    William Faulknerhttp
    Ernest Hemingway
    Henry James
    Scott Fitzgerald
    Mary Shelly :wub:
    Eugene O'Neill
    Tennessee Williams
    Leo Tolstoy
    Victor Hugo
    Ralph Emmerson
    Henryk Ibsen
    Charles Dickens
    Herman Melville
    Samuel Clemens
    Edgar Allan Poe
    William Blake
    John Keats
    Emily Dickenson

    I would almost be happy to suffer alongside such impressive talented people. I'm afraid of going to my writing class today as I can just see my eyes leaking tears at a brainstorming group discussion. I haven't much strength anymore. I suppose I'm writing more than before - a product of necessity over pleasure. The completed product is utter shit, anyhow. But maybe that's just my level of talent.

    I feel you gnashing your jaws against me. Oh and funny story - less alcohol in my life and ta da! the pain in the prostate is back. :( What the fuck is that about?

    Nobody outside of this site understands that when you are depressed your emotional life resembles Victor Frankenstein. It's not melodrama, but intensified lies brought forth from depression that paint your senses better than alcohol or drugs do.

    And fucking insomnia. You lie in the darkened room with no sounds, were it not for the restless energy bouncing around your chest, or the orchestra playing Dvorak's Carnival Overture - again and again and again.

    "Am I bitter?" Beethoven once replied to his brother in writing, " How should I be expected to behave if the one thing that brings joy to my life is taken from me?" - regarding going deaf.

    I feel that way about writing. I mean I can't really enjoy anything else in the world - it's all substandard compared to the sensual spirituality found in syntax, diction, tone, and imagery. And that too has stepped away from me. I feel more like Proust or Kafka - isolated and doomed to be alone and without pleasure. Though my talent is far below theirs.
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 25, 2009
  15. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member






  16. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    I really can't deal with you anymore D. You are such a crummy friend. I've been crying all day. I'll head out to class, but I don't have any of my work completed- I showered and shaved today, but I'm going to go to school in my pjs again. Pjs and slippers.

    I can't answer the phone today. why bother?

    at least i'm earning the classification of chronic severe major depression.

  17. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    now i feel crazy and want to kill myself
    i feel guilty about everyone i interacted with -this too is selfish and manipulative
    i'm a horrible person who just happens to be depressed also; doesn't change that im horrible
    if i knew a place where i could disappear to i would

    great my two emotions - immense sadness and self-hatred :blub:

    i think i was a good person once, i can't remember
    i should be hit by a bus today
    whatever the case everyone should stay away from this hazard.

    sorry j.

    i'm just one miserable black hole. anyone ever play KOTOR 2 lol...

    i don't think i'll act on this - i don't think it's very smart- but killing myself seems like a really good idea right now... :blub: who would have thought crying for the past two days was just a way for my body to recharge its suicidal impulses

    james - sad and crying.
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 26, 2009
  18. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member

    counselors are worthless - she says that I'm smart and that I drink too much. i hate bullshit compliments and obvious statements.

    clinical depression can't be solved by going into the hospital - you aren't suicidal when on suicide watch. but the moment you leave you are again. Why are counselors and psychologists so fucking stupid?

    i can't concentrate on anything in my life anymore. It's one more day until rent's due and in the best world I'm $50 short. i really wish i had some heroin to OD. . . that's a lie. i want to [method ] myself in the [method] until i die of [method]....i can't say that.

    i think most people would be ok now if i died. most know i appreciate them. most would be somewhat relieved to have me out of their life- they would have wanted the good james in their life, but the bad toxic one should be far away, and death is pretty far away.

    i can't really function at all. i have to go to the bathroom and i have to eat - i only ate a hotdog yesterday - there was bad saurkraut on it. i have to go to the bathroom, but that means getting off my bed and maybe going past a landlord. but if i go, i'll shower so then people will say i'm functioning - doesn't feel like it.

    my counselor was very pretty though. she was the exact opposite of me. i think a classmate noticed me crying in playwriting -she wouldn't stop looking at me.

    one time ago i wasn't like this. but it seems that's all there is now. this is what happens to the black hole when he loses his mask


  19. aki

    aki Well-Known Member

    yes. :unsure: oh yeah. just had to tell you I can identify so much with what you said here. and loads of your other posts as well.

    big :hug:
  20. jameslyons

    jameslyons Well-Known Member



    I feel so compelled right now... I don't know if I can stop it this time...


    I'm going to clean up my room, pack up, then... hope that that ends the compulsion. If not



    How funny. I sent my parents little texts telling them how much I loved them and again they think it's because they've sacrificed so much for me financially and emotionally (they have and I'm appreciative), but still it's a bit fucked up.

    Just another way life gives everybody the finger.