When You're Dead

Shadows. Dark memories that still hurt. Paranoia. Terrifying faces and figures that haunt with persistence. No sleep.

A waking nightmare isn’t something many have to live through — and I don’t mean the everyday troubles people often find themselves in. I am speaking of the dreadful uncanny. The shrouded figures that watch your every move and lurk in every dark corner. Down every dark hallway. The feeling of dread that something bad is going to happen, but you aren’t quite sure what it is. And then your body becomes so worn that your eyes feel heavy, and you begin to give up because the light doesn’t exist anymore.

And then you consider joining the shadows, if there is anything after that final decision.

I speak about this when I can. I try to use my own waking nightmares as a point — as proof — that there are people like me who exist; people who want to be heard but may not know how. I speak loudly and clearly.

I’ve lost friends because of this darkness and what it's made of me. I’ve been told by others that I’m too much, or that my past is too dark. As a writer, I often fear my truths are too strange or controversial for any bookshelf. Yet, I have to live this truth, as do others who have had similar experiences. I try so hard to turn this darkness into something meaningful — into a sign that others are not alone, and that we deserve to be heard.

But this is not a truth many want to hear. People like me are often overlooked because we are considered strange or simply unwell. We’re locked behind a door in a psychiatric hospital until we find a brief calm, and then we’re returned to face the darkness on our own — only to be expected back again.

The problem is that so few want to confront the problem. Few want to learn how to help rather than sweep it under the rug. And I’m not a celebrity, as many of us aren't. Our struggles don’t matter unless we are a star. And the stars will not speak for us, yet they get sympathy. When the nobodies speak, suddenly no one wants to deal with it because we’re still in the pit and can’t get out. We don’t have a shining success story draped in diamonds, cash, and fame. We aren’t sexy enough to sell.

I have been told by a medical professional that I’m likely to take my own life one day no matter the progress I've made, the reason being that I've attempted before, and statistics are everything.

And society won't care until you're dead.

©2020 Shane Blackheart