kagablog

I don’t know what drove me to it. I really don’t. I was doing fine, I mean, I had destroyed basically all of my relationships, but still, I had sort of set out to do that, in some way or another. I always do that. Every relationship I’ve ever had, I screwed up, almost like I wanted to. Like a little kid with a microwave and a puppy, and a burning curiosity. Like I killed them, just to see what happened. But that’s only bothered me just after, just for a while. But I’ve always had a sense of humor. Y’know, that’s probably what kept me this long, just being able to laugh. But recently, in the weeks before the… incident, I felt… heavy. Like an elephant reading Tolstoy. Just… heavy. That was my downfall. I’d lost that spark of laughter.

So why did I do it? I honestly can’t say. But it’s kinda like when you’ve had a rough day, y’know the kinda day where everything just goes wrong? Well, it’s like coming home after one of those days and you sit in your comfy chair and you grab the remote to switch on the TV, but it isn’t working and the TV just sits there, and you start pressing harder and harder on the button until you just totally lose it and throw the remote through the tube. It would’ve been less money and pain if you’d just put in new batteries, but you just… lost it. That’s kinda what happened to me, that sort of boiling under the surface until it just spews out because of the pure pressure. Just I did a lot more than ruin a TV. But we’re not here for what I did, we’re here for why I did it. I was at school that day. The day was already kinda melancholy, but then again, most of my days are. I was walking down the corridor with my bag slung over my shoulder, and then something went click. I swear it was almost audible. Some thing went click. They say mental illness takes years to develop, but what about the exact moment? The moment bending goes to breaking? The click moment? That’s what I had. And, at first, I didn’t feel that different. It was like when you’re dodging and ducking to see something, and then you take a step to the left and you can see it perfectly. Just a sudden change of perspective. But then, I started really feeling the change. And I got this sudden urge to bleed. Just… bleed.

I had cut myself before then, but only small cuts. Just to bleed. I followed the insane logic that if I was bleeding on the outside, I don’t bleed on the inside. No, you couldn’t say that I was ever mentally stable. But that day was different. I wanted to bleed like a pig on a chain, to scar myself so badly that no-one would ever talk to me again. Then I could go sit in a corner and quietly die. You have to understand, you have to get this right. I never actually considered suicide, never seriously considered it. But I have wondered what it would feel like.

Like jumping off a mountain. You give a gigantic leap and you start falling. The adrenaline rises up from your stomach. You hit a branch on the way down. And you start spinning and flailing around. Your arm smacks against the rock face and breaks in three places. You can actually hear the bones snapping. But you can’t feel a thing. You look down as the ground rushes up to meet you. And suddenly… I wonder what that would feel like. The last split second when your head is crushed into your torso. D’you think it would hurt? I wonder…

But, I’m getting distracted. That day I came home from school and went to the fridge to grab a Coke. The urge had abated to some extent, but was still there. Just behind my eyes. I grabbed the Coke and sat down on the couch. Suddenly I heard a sound, from the kitchen behind me, and I spun round. Y’see, I’ve never been at ease with anything. Always kinda paranoid. So, anyway, I spun around. It was probably only the cat, but I saw the hammer lying on the kitchen counter. I looked at it for, maybe, ten minutes. I got up and walked to it, never taking my eyes off. I picked it up and held it to the light, as if to see the contours properly. I put my left arm on the counter, with the palm-side pointing to me. And without flinching, I smacked the hammer down on my wrist. I could hear the bones cracking and gnashing. The doctors told me later that I broke it in four places. Then came the pain. I can’t describe the pain. It was… excruciating. Then I thought it was because I hadn’t done it properly, hammers were for nails. I started looking round the kitchen for nails. It was really hard since I couldn’t use my left hand any more. So I looked and looked, but I couldn’t find a single nail. Then I thought, nail can have two meanings. I looked at my fingers. Turned my hand over. Ah! Nails! I started hitting my nails back into my fingers. I hammered until my finger tips were bloody and you could scarcely see the nails still protruding from the flesh. Or, you would’ve seen the nails if it wasn’t for the blood. By the time I got to the little piggy that went to the market, the whole counter was covered in blood. I slid down to the ground after the last little piggy went home. Then I thought, hammers aren’t only for destruction. Doctors use hammers on knees to heal people. I looked at my kneecap. Have you ever heard the sound? It’s a very interesting sound. It’s a kind of cartilagey sound but with the obvious break noises added. All in all it was a sound I quite liked. I wanted to hear more. Smack. Smack. Smack! Haha! It was like a symphony of self-destruction! But then, I couldn’t take the pain anymore. Then I thought, mother always gave us half a pill when we had headaches. I wondered what she would’ve given for this?

I looked around myself for the medicine, but I saw almost only blood. I was so scared of what Mother would’ve said about the mess. I grabbed the dishcloth from the sink and stated wiping up the blood. But the problem was that the dishcloth couldn’t take as much liquid, so I only ended up smearing it around. Mother would be so disappointed. As I was cleaning up, I spotted it. The last nail! It had rolled into one of the cracks between the tiles. I crawled closer. Damn! It was a screw! Well, screws could be useful too… Weren’t people always saying I had a screw loose? Here was my chance to screw it in. Nice and tight. But, of course, I’d need a screwdriver first. I slid myself over to the closet. Wow, blood was an excellent lubricant! But it got kinda sticky. So, I took out the screwdriver. I held the screw against the top of my head and started turning. People were always mocking me for screwing up. Well, now I was screwing decidedly down.

After about five minutes it got kinda sore, plus the blood was starting to run into my eyes and that stung quite badly. It didn’t go that deep, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, of course, but it still hurt quite a lot. Who ever thought a head could bleed that much? It was amazing. Like a crimson waterworks!

It was right then that my mother came in. She started screaming. I tried to tell her that I was sorry about the mess, and that I’d clean it up later. But she didn’t stop screaming. Screaming, screaming, screaming, SCREAMING! I just couldn’t take it anymore. I hurled the hammer at her. It hit her between the eyes with a dull thud. Haha! It sounded like her head was hollow! She collapsed onto the ground and stopped breathing. And I started screaming too. I screamed and screamed until the neighbors burst in. The lady fell faint at the sight of the mess. I started explaining again that I would clean it up, but I was feeling quite faint and the words must have come out all jumbled because she just looked at me. All shocked-like.

Long story short I went to a hospital. For people like… me. It was nice. The food was nice and everything. Just the pills weren’t nice. The pills were awful. They made me feel so sleepy. And we had to take them three times a day. They didn’t taste nice. Can I tell you a secret? I stopped taking them. Haha! But I’m much better now, really. Feeling good these days. Say, can you do me a favor? Pass me that letter opener…