A Note (…to the outside people. I think I’m dead.)
By: Lexus Ndiwe
Tags: Blue Insights, Loneliness, Depression, Creative Non Fiction, Suicide

Sometimes, I forget that I’m alive. I cannot accurately explain it in words. But being ‘awake’ for me is a clear as a foggy mirror after a shower. You can still see something starring back at you, but what it is exactly is unclear. I sometimes see the people now in homes, with their eyes glazed over. They aren’t calm but still. Silent. Why do I share those same eyes? While passing the usual blur of faces I forget how to walk. My footsteps become clumsy, and as I try to waddle forward I have to stop myself. Which foot goes where again? When I finally regain the rhythm I continue on with my day. Head down, shoulders up, and pass faces I will never see.

At home I go back to face the screen. It greets me with its limitless potential, (as long as it’s connected of course.) The perfect distraction. I watch shows about love, ramblings, and view other types of media. I have no concept of time. So when I look at the numbers on the bottom, right corner of the screen, I realise that I haven’t eaten. I grab something, eat, and prepare to rest. When the screen is finally off, and I go back to stare into the mirror, there is no noise to fill the silence. I realise that I am alone again. Now don’t get me wrong. Sometimes its solitude, but on the days that I’m not graced with its presence it’s loneliness. I listen to the soothing vocals which pull me into sleep. Now unconscious I begin to ‘live’.

In the dream I wake up and start my day. Sometimes the day goes well. I am a secret spy trying to crack the code. While dining in a restaurant the food never stops coming, and it’s alright as the hunger is never completely fulfilled. I am holding the hand of a lover when they turn and confess that they are in fact from an alien species! But on other days the nightmares plague my mind. I am locked in, and can hear nothing from the real world. There is no where I can run to when the villain or monster comes for me. I cannot close my eyes when I am about to be killed. And when the news comes that all the people I hold dear have died, I cannot cover my ears. I am stuck to watch the ‘reality’ unfold before me. Now I know that they aren’t real, but when I wake up in tears it takes a while for reality to seep back in again.

How can I be awake but still feel asleep, while I feel reality in the land of my dreams?

Another day, I press ‘repeat’. And the day after that, ‘repeat’. ‘Repeat’. ‘Repeat’. ‘Repeat’. Oh for goodness sake, ‘pause’.

I see people like me become cynical. “f*ck people, they’re all the same.” But I don’t want to become like that. I understand that it must be me, because when the amount of people you meet increases, and you’re still in the same place, then it’s you not them. I don’t want to remain like this into the ‘reclusive ages’ when being alone is to be expected. I haven’t even bloomed yet. I haven’t loved myself enough yet. I want to escape outside my mind, where the buzzing of voices, continuous footsteps, and supposed normality resides.

Addressed to the people on the outside. Written from the ‘me’ inside the cage in my mind.