When I was about 14 of age, I was becoming very lonely - because I had lost all and every opportunity to feel wanted, needed, appreciated. I might have been 15 aswell, hmm. Fuck it. We have a library close to home and I would go there once and a while. Now, I was a great fan of Nirvana. It was the most beautifull music I'd ever heard. Anyhow, I saw this biography of Kurt Cobain, standing amongst the books of the library. I was amazed. I took it immediately, determined to read it completely - it was a thick book. It was very strange reading this book. It was someones lifestory - I had never read such a thing before. On many occasions I was very bored with what i read, but other times I would sit "on the tip of my chair". So amazing, to read someone's life - apparently. It covered all of his life. From up to his very childhood.
Once the book was lying around downstairs - I didn't expect anyone to be offended by it, because I didn't expect anyone to know who Kurt Cobain is. But my father, when seeing the book, said: "So, You're reading books about Losers?" He meant Losers in Life. (In fact his own father had commited suicide, but this i would only learn at a much later stage) It hurt me so much he said this, that i hid myself in the bathroom and cried.
It was as if I had walked along with someone - reading this book - and then in the end he kills himself, and I was left behind. I dont know from what perspective, but I found much beauty and dignity in the act of killing oneself. In my imagination, Kurt Cobain had become a god. This - I thought - is what real courage means. In the story of his life I saw how isolated he'd become from the world, getting somehow lost from his home and childhood - finding out there existed nothing that was actually worth living. I found myself in kind of the same situation. I was in public school, third year, and I had no real friends anymore. There was no one who had even the slightest idea of who i was, where I came from. I could just be anyone. I lost all sense of purpose, the world was closing in on me. This was the point where I realised my life was over. I could see nothing in the future that was worth waiting for, looking out for. My childhood was over and I felt worthless. I remember how life just became boring at a certain point. I often would sense this same sense of lostness in the kids of my class.
At home I was very much on my own. My sisters seemed to have their own world togther - since they now shared a large room together. Also, I wasn't interested in them anymore. They were becoming "stupid girls" - from my point of view. I did not understand them anymore - all three of us were learning to play the appropriate roles of "boys" and "grils". Especially me, I guess. I was now the adolescent one. My world was very limited - even in space. There was home and school, the train wich connected the two, and that's about it. I wasn't undertaking anything anymore, because I felt powerless. I constantly felt the weight of my parents expectations on my shoulders - I knew this life had nothing to do with me, but i went on living it, very much like a robot. The desperateness I had to supress, the desperedness of never being able to experience myself as a child again. I had no life-expectations left.
This was also the time I wondered if I might be gay. Now, in terms of sexuality, I think I must have been slow or something. The sexual interest didnt seem to 'awake' inside me. I remember how I would remain indifferent when some boys were talking about wich girls they thought were attractive. But neither would I experience being attracted to boys, not yet. Only when I was about 15, I noticed I would get mesmerized and experience strange movements inside me as I was staring at the legs of a man who was wearing shorts. I did not understand 'where this came from'. I was completely taken by surprise. The whole concept of being in a relation with someone, hardly ever caught my attention, by that time. It wasn't something I would give much thought. When I was in first grade there would be a rumor there were some girls who thought I was handsome or cute or whatever, and I absolutely wouldn't know how to handle this. I actually would feel ashamed of myself. I felt threatened by this - I paniced inside. The whole deal of sexuality was very alien to me. So, as I discovered the possibility that I might be gay - it seems I ignored it, even to myself. I didn't talk about it to anyone - I just thought it was another strange thing I just would hide inside myself, as I did with so many things. But I do remember the shame I felt towards myself. It was extensive. I wouldn't want to experience this 'strangeness' inside myself, I tried to ignore it as much as I could. I pretended it didn't exist.
Because I immediately feared, that if this would "show itself" to others, I would be done with. There were my parents, - with their expectations of me being so wonderfull, clever, high grades, an example to all other kids of the family - and also my sisters who were still in primary school.
It was as if the world was laughing me in the face. "What ya gonna do now, boy?" All my life I had done nothing but doing what I'd been told. And then wanting to be the best at it. Pleasing everyone by being number one. Surely, I figured out life was totally and completely meaningless. I decided it didn't matter anymore. I was living a life, wich I realised more and more, was pre-programmed by adults who made all the choices for me. I was sitting inside some attraction called "life", and I already knew it wasn't going to get me anywhere. The "gay-thing" wich I considered as a problem, just came right on time. Without it, i might have been able to live in some kind of hope, that someday I might still be able to make a compromise to my advantage out of this life - later on, somewhere in the future. But now all my chances were screwed. "Don't even bother buying a lottery ticket! There's no price for you!" Especially with regards to my parents, I felt ashamed. I didn't have the courage to take on all the challenges that were put before me, I was completely discouraged.
The desire to end my life was very real. But it was also - and maybe mostly - about revenge. As I sat on the train - supposedly towards school, but I wasn't going to school that particular day, because I had decided before weekend that I would leave on monday, pretending that I would be off to school - suddenly something occured to me. I remember the shock - a heavy shock. I suddenly realised - because I had a pretty materialistic worldview, even though it wasn't much elaborated - that I wouldn't 'survive my own death'. I would not be 'present' to witness the consequences of my death - that's what I believed. That morning on the train - on the way to somewhere secretly cut my wrists -was actually the first time I really, heavily reflected on death. It had never occured to me that all I believed in - I didn't believe in heaven or hell, and did not believe in anything 'supernatural' for that matter - implicated that after death, I would no longer exist in any state whatsoever. I would become non-existent. Now this made me sweat for a (very long) second, because I realised I didn't have a clue about what it was I was undertaking. I could feel the fear cathing on my breath and the heaviness of my heartbeat.
I gues I was just too proud to 'abort' my mission. Because what had I done for the last couple of days? The moment I had made the decission to kill myself, my main motivation had been to screw my world BIGTIME - imagining the looks on peoples faces, the horror, etc. It was a game I played for a time, every evening, while I was sitting on a bench, waiting for my train to go home again from school. I would imagine myself NOT taking the train back home. I would taste the excitement of this thought over and over again, as I would walk on the train. Something inside me screamed for it - for me to stop all and everything, to break the pattern, the expectation, as all my life was just an expectation of someone else. So, what I realised that last friday, was that it was actually possible to do this FOR REAL. I realised that it was mostly myself keeping myself in check, providing for my own repetitiveness. It was a realisation of absolute freedom. Now I was in power of myself again. Oh man, the excitement that I felt - I felt ALIVE. There had been nothing holding me back but myself! I realised there exist freedom in every moment. And that's what my experience was about, the days that would follow - the weekend. That's what was so cool about it. I had 'planned it in advance', so that i could 'enjoy the perspective of my descision'. It put my whole world in a totally different light! (I was leaving this existence in a couple of days and nobody knew this exept myself!!! It was hilarious!!!)
Ok, I'm continuing the story, not reading back my previous words, as I had stopped writing yesterday. Ok, I left off saying I had been too proud to 'abort' my mission. What does this mean? It means I did not want to go back to my previous experience of myself. Because, when I started fearing I might actually no longer exist in any way whatsoever, I still had the chance and the opportunity, to get off the train as usual and just go to school. Aah, now I remember. I actually had taken measures against this! In the weekend, I had trown away a lot of my school material and school notes... Hmm, the moment I threw them away it wasn't about measures, but about proving to myself that it was for real and that I was in no way going 'back to life as it was'. This i had done secretly. (My mum actually found the notes! I said: It's ok, it's all old material I dont need anymore from past semesters etc. and she believed me, off course. After all, why would I throw away al this very valuable material I needed so much? I had so much fun. Nothing of this world applied to me anymore.)
Back to 'killing myself'. well, obviously I didn't go through with it! Hahahahaa! I was basically too scared to make myself bleed - even if I had rehearsed in my imagination. In my imagination it seemed so damn easy... Just one deep stroke and that was enough. (just recently a friend of mine had explained to me how exactly one needed to cut in order to bleed effectively - but she wasn't aware, and neither was I at that moment, that I would soon try it out. Its strange - the experience I had when she showed it to me. She drew a line with a marker or something on my wrist - it was as if she was showing me the forbidden fruit. I wondered how she knew this kind of stuff.) I think my mom even made a remark about the line on my wrist. "Are you going to kill yourself? Hahaha!" she was just joking.
Ok, so I did not cut myself. (I only realised I wasn't up to it when actually holding the knife - I was afraid to hurt myself, can you imagine! Also I was afraid of destroying my body - cutting the skin... It suddenly seemed a very sick thing to do. Also I was affraid I would panic, once I would have made the cut. Yes, this was very prominent. I knew I wouldn't be able to just watch myself bleeding with my wrist cut open. I would go insane and scream like a pig! ...It was a real nightmare.) What then? I went, maybe I should run away from home then? At that point I was very much on the way of realising this was not good, not good at all, and I felt fear in my stomach. I would travel around a bit the rest of the day, wondering where to go. Going to one city with the train and in the evening i would eventually go back to Brussels. It's funny, I never realised - while it's so obvious - the reason I went back to Brussels, is that i wanted to be found. When I sat in the inside hall of the station - I was feeling very miserable - I started crying, because it was very late already and I knew people would be looking for me right now. I cried because there was the world again, as if it had never been gone. I had only fooled myself! The 'rush' of the experience of total 'freedom' was over, and I felt screwed like I had never been in my life. Suddenly there were this practical arguments again, in my head, about responsiblility and what I could not do towards my parents. I did not want to face them, nor anyone for that matter. I sarted wishing I had never done this stupid thing - I wanted the 'security' of my old life back. Unbelievable - but true. There I was, feeling sorry for myself. It was as if I understood, right there, that nothing could evere be erased - that eventually all and everything comes back to you. My 'world' (people at home and at school) felt like an undistructible entity. It was there - I could only try to forget it, but not for very long.
I actually just did not want to face any consequences, and I knew they were coming. How was I going to explain myself? What would my father say? etc. I didn't have any power left to run away anymore. And so - some friends found me and called home, and my father came to pick me up. Apparently the police was looking for me, because much 'letters' (wich weren't actually meant as letters for anyone! I kept them hidden in my burea) were found, where I explained 'my plan'. Was I completely stupid or something? Hahahahahaa! I would say, that when it came to killing myself - I couldn't have been more of an amateur! Haha!
When me and my father got home - I found my world to exist in much turmoil.