Well, I’m at work, got another two and a half hours until I leave and I’m thinking about what I’m going to do when I get back. I’ve been staying with my Father these last two weeks, but I think its time to go home. Maybe I’ll do it tonight, if only I had the courage to go through with it, I was raised Christian you see, and on account of that always have that niggling thought in the back of my mind that all who commit suicide go to the bad place. I don’t want that, I’m not /that/ much of a bad person, I just have a real tendency to make terrible choices, at the worst possible times. So, I hear you ask (If you read this far that is), what could possibly be /that/ bad. I’ve had feelings similar to this before, but not exactly like this, and I think this particular one is going to push me too far, the grey cells are constantly working overtime, playing out a thousand scenarios in parallel until my head feels like it’ll implode. I’ve tried immersing myself in work but it’s just not working, I don’t enjoy the work anymore, I don’t care. I’m sick of being surrounded by the pretentious perverted people I am placed with, even though saying that I feel like the proverbial pot. I Love to be Loved, I think most people probably do. I need that other person in my life, that particular person who I have now driven away with one of my famous monumentally bad choices made in a matter of seconds. My mother always says that that feeling of emptiness is filled by God. I don’t know if that’s true or not, I do believe, but I’m not one of those outspoken Christians, and I can safely say, at the moment anyway, that I need the one I have lost, and I really and truly believe that nothing else will ever fill that void. It seems such a cliché, at least in my mind – the twenty something male taking his own life because he cant handle the break down of his relationship. So, we broke up. The relationship was always a firey one. We even sometimes got slightly physical (not in a sexual way), but overall it was amazing, and the problems we did have were down to problems that were well on their way to being fixed. My (ex) fiancée had been suffering with terrible depression, and looking back on it, I was very blind to the situation, and didn’t help half as much as I could/should have. I did help (I think), just not enough. In the last few months of the relationship she started taking mild anti depressants, and it was like an overnight miracle cure (Maybe a Placebo? I’ve read first hand accounts that say they take upwards of two weeks to take effect). We were like the model couple, it was perfect. I just wanted to be with her the whole time, holding on to make sure we stayed together, I still do, more than anything, more than anything. OK, so things were perfect. But before everything had straightened out and we were both perfectly happy in the relationship, I had already ruined it, she just didn’t know it yet. It was about a week before she started on the medication, and a friend of mine was coming down to visit from the other end of the country. He only comes down about 3 times a year, and we’ve known each other for about 10 years, so we usually go out and have a few beers and a chat. My (ex) partner, it has to be said, doesn’t really like him. She sees him as a pervert, and a bad influence. Maybe that’s right, I don’t know. I only spoke with him once since the break up, very briefly, which is odd because we used to call each other all the time, but since it happened there seems to be this mutual barrier preventing contact. When he came to the flat (My partner was living with me), she was fairly rude to him, directly to his face. He stayed for about ten minutes before we started having a very heated argument. He sat outside the house for a while, then drove off when he realised the argument was not going to be resolved any time soon. It went on for a while, half an hour or so, lots of the same old points came up from both our sides, and eventually I ended up deciding to go out for a few beers with the friend without her (Actually it wasn’t quite like that, she wouldn’t come, even at that point I wanted her to, and I wish, wish, wish I had dragged her with me kicking and screaming because none of this would have happened. She did call my mobile phone a while later, but by that time I had made myself quite angry with her thinking about it, and already drunk a pint of beer, so I told her I didn’t want to see her that night). Up to this point, things would still have been recoverable. The night went on, my poor partner was at home on her own, probably distraught, wondering where I was and what I was getting up to. It wasn’t the only time I had been out without her, there had been about 5 occasions over the last year, though I had never done anything untoward on any of those other occasions, despite what she believed. Myself and my friend had been drinking in pubs for a few hours, and for god knows what reason, we decided to go into a new bar that had opened up (You probably know the type of bar I mean, ok, it’s a strip club), I don’t know why I did it. It ISNT me, I’m not like that, I hate those places. But right at that moment I thought I hated my girl, hated her for being rude, humiliating me in front of my friend, hated her for horrible things she had said about me and my family. Its no justification, in my mind, those places are wrong, and I wish to God I had never set foot through the doors because it has ruined my life. I did not cheat on her, I never have, and I never would have, although she (and I guess a lot of people) would call going into one of those places cheating. So, that happened, if there was anything I could do to change that I would give my soul, just so I could un-do the hurt inflicted on her. After that night I thought we were finished, part of me wanted out of the relationship. But then she started taking the medication, and like I said, it was like a miracle cure. Things went back the way they had been when we first met, we got on perfectly, no arguments, no problems at all, the model couple like I said. We are made for each other, I don’t think either of us will ever find that same feeling again, like two pieces of a jigsaw, Yin, Yan, you get the idea. We had a great time while we were still together and she was on the medication – we even took a weekend break down in Somerset, it was, I would say, the happiest I have ever been in my life. I don’t know why, but she suspected. It was after we came back from the holiday that she kept probing and asking me where I had gone that night with my friend. I tried and tried to keep it from her (I know that’s wrong, but I 1) Couldn’t stand the thought of breaking her heart [yeah right Michael should have thought about that before shouldn’t you] and 2) I knew it would mean loosing her. Eventually, I caved, she asked me, she said it would be fine, that we were strong and no matter what I had done it would be ok, so I told her. I admitted that I had made this gross error of judgment and if there was anything I could do to take it back I would. It killed her, I’ll never forget her face when I said that, I know the feeling you get in your chest and stomach, like you just want to stop breathing right then and there just so that you don’t have to put up with this feeling anymore. That was the moment I knew I didn’t want to be on this planet anymore. Not just because I don’t want to live without her, but I cant live with myself for putting her through that. I can’t believe I did it to her. I love her more than anyone could explain, she is the first thing I think about when I wake and the last thing I think on when I go to sleep. I still cant think whether I would have been more right to keep it from her, I don’t know, I think probably its best in the end to tell the truth. Otherwise I may have ended up ending it anyway because of guilt, and that wouldn’t have been fair on her. We still stayed together for a few days after that. At one point it even seemed like it was going to be ok, she said she understood why I had done it, and that we would get through it. Her emotions were however very up and down, and my timing was awful. The medication had worked miracles, but it was nothing near enough to keep someone’s head on the level when they had had their heart smashed to pieces and dangled in front of their face like that. So, we rode out quite a few arguments in those last few days. Things even got physical, I wont go into details, lets just say it was not good, and it was about even on both sides. I know neither of us are proud of it. It was the Saturday after I had told her. I had taken her out in town the night before to try and make a start at getting things back on track, and to some extent I thought it had started to work. Wrong. An argument started kicking off, the physical bit happened (I cant believe it writing it down), there’s no point going into details about it, its wrong, but it happened (I never hit her incidentally, before I get flamed for being a wife beater). At some point I remember her going into the kitchen drawer to retrieve a knife. Not a particularly large knife, but a knife. Initially I thought she was going to cut herself, she had done recently and I’d tried to stop her, I used to do it myself and I don’t like seeing other people doing it. In fact I don’t really like knives full stop. I was sitting in my chair in the living room/office and it became apparent that she was not in fact going to cut herself, I think she wanted to kill me. Again, in retrospect I wish I had just laid there and let it happen. I didn’t retaliate, I just sat there and tried to fend the blows off with my arms. One of my arms got hit quite badly at some point, and it was then that I thought I’d best get the hell out of there. I didn’t even really want to leave, its just one of those annoying built in instincts that kicks in, your brain doesn’t let you decide what to do, it just happens and you watch. So I ran, she was screaming at me not to leave, but like I said, I was on autopilot. I also wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks. My shirt had been torn down to the shoulder and I didn’t have my wallet, keys, or any money. I stood outside the house for a moment, and saw her up at the window, it was really surreal. I put my left hand to my right arm, and felt my shirt was really wet, then took it away and realised it was my arm, bleeding pretty profusely. So, shit. What am I meant to do now? The adrenaline was still going then. Like I said, retrospectively I wish I’d gone back in there, I’ve also heard that murdered souls go to heaven. I’d have accomplished my goal and circumvented the clause that would have me sent down rather than up, and, as a bonus point, my girl would have probably felt a lot better about the whole thing, and undoubtedly got away with it as people sometimes do in domestic situations like that. Anyway, regardless of what I wish I had done, I didn’t. So I went round to the phone box (I didn’t take my mobile out with me either). OK, phone box requires money – no money – ok – reverse charge call to my Father’s house. He isn’t in, I speak to his Wife, but don’t really feel I can tell her what has happened, also I can imagine the phone call she would then make to my Dad, and him freaking out because he hadn’t spoken to me direct and didn’t know how bad/not bad it was. So, weird as it was, I just said goodbye to her and put the phone down. Standing there in a transparent glass phone box, with bare feet, a ripped shirt, and by now a fair old amount of blood smeared around the place, it probably looked like something from a film. Needless to say no passers by asked if I was ok, people have a tendency to ignore things like that, its weird. I didn’t know what to do. Still had the survival instinct crap going on, ok, 999. I had to do something, and my god do I regret this. I spoke to the police, she was arrested, and I got taken to the hospital to get my arm sown up. I still cant help thinking maybe if I had gone back into the flat things would have worked out better. Otherwise she would have killed me, win, or I’d have stood a chance of sorting things out eventually, win. But no. She’s not supposed to speak to me until next month, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t phone her at least 10 times a day (Usually is able to answer about twice due to parents, work etc). I can’t help it, a piece of me has been torn off and I need it back, this isn’t the feeling I’ve had from any break up in the past, its far worse. All I want is the chance to make it all ok again, to show her how much she means to me, and to prove that I’m not the kind of horrible person she thinks I am. I need her so badly it makes me throw up. I cant sleep, I don’t like to eat anymore, I have to constantly be otherwise smoking or rolling another one up. I cant really describe the feeling, all the things I can think of to write down I’m sure I’ve already read somewhere, and I feel sure that this feeling is unique, even though I know it obviously isn’t. Its just too much for me. I cant deal with it. If I manage to do it (I’m sure I wont), I feel sure that those left behind will deal well. My mother, the hardened Christian, able to cope with pretty much anything. My father, well acquainted with Death already, and safely looked after by a loving Wife. My ex fiancée, I love her so much, and I think that would be the hardest one. She always said to me that if I died then she would kill herself too. I don’t know if that still stands or not, but I would imagine if I did do it it would make her feel guilty, which isn’t right – I was the one in the wrong. I provoked the whole damn thing. If I’d have given her the right support in the first place we’d have been fine. Some people call this self pity I think – well, maybe it is. But I think everyone gets like that sometimes. Bottom line, I don’t want to live without her. You can say many things, my Dad’s favourite being “There are plenty more fish in the sea”, but I don’t think any of the other fish will fit the hole left by my sweet, sweet girl. I love you L***.