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aleksander0086-blog · 6 years

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In/Destructable.

Friends come and they will go. I gotta be careful for whom I call my 'friends', though. I have major trust issues, I can't bond easily, and like I explained in my preview post, I am not a great communicator. Well, there is one friend I had, one friend I thought I could trust and would be there until forever, really. His name was Kaiden. I met Kaiden when I was 17 years old - he was 4 years younger than me. He was an exchange student living in my house, back in the time when I lived in The Netherlands with my family. Kaiden was from Florida, lived in poverty, and also had a lot of problems at home, such as abuse, neglect, and bullying in school. He lived with us for an entire school year, I think about 9 or 10 months or so. He was 4 years younger than me, but he became like a brother to me. Even though it took me some time to fully loosen up, at first I bullied him a lot, made fun of him because he looked like an emo and I used to hate Americans. But I found out he was a really special fella. Even when our lives continued when he went back to the States, and I continued to live my life in The Netherlands, we kept in touch, virtually. There was something I always liked about him - his energy, his depth, his patience, his understanding. He wasn't afraid to speak his mind or disagree with me, and I appreciated that. People can be so damn fake. ..But he wasn't. Even when we were a few years older, in our 20's, I often went to visit him in the States, a couple of times a year. We were going out on roadtrips, all kinds of adventures, or we just hung out in his apartment a lot, watching movies, like something you'd expect from a real friendship. I never had a friendship like that, where I would actually do fun activities. In other friendships of mine, we just used drugs and hung out on the streets, act trashy, talking about murder, feeling useless. But the friendship I had with Kaiden really had some real depth, we could talk for hours all night, and he made me believe it is no shame to talk about my inner feelings and emotions. By that time, I had never met a single person I felt comfortable enough to talk about my inner feelings. And to me, it felt like a piece of freedom, and he gave me that like some kind of gift. Really, if it wasn't for him, I would still be a numb asshole with my feelings all bottled up.

When I moved to New York when I was 25, I often went to visit Kaiden in Michigan. There were huge gaps, though, and I realized that every time we saw each other again. I had my problems with drinking, using drugs, the errors inside my head. But he, Kaiden, was struggling with bipolar disorder, as he knew since the age of 15. He just did a perfect job by hiding the whole thing. But I could see whenever he was going through a difficult time. He used to be straight edge - no drinking, no drugs, not even smoking cigarettes. But ever since he got back from L.A, his life got a little twisted. He always had high expectations and big dreams, as he wanted to make it in L.A., but I saw the city of angels changed him. He came back as a different person, very odd. It just wasn't him. He opened up about the fact he was sexually abused by his manager, that he met the wrong people there, and he definitely started drinking a lot. He was forced to use drugs. Once he came back to Michigan, I think it triggered his mental health and it took the wrong turn. Everything he did was limitless. The typical symptoms of bipolar disorder, those were clear to see. Very extreme mood swings. There were times when I moved in with him, but every time I stayed with him for awhile, the better I got to know him. It wasn't really pretty. He was either extremely happy or a really mean bitch. Kaiden, he also developed this huge identity crisis with himself - he was not sure about his sexual orientation and identity. He was struggling with it. I tried to help him, even though I, myself, used to be a little bit homophobic back in the days. He was my friend, and I knew he was struggling with it. I just wanted us to have fun again like we used to have. I came to find out we had a difficult time dosing our attention to each other, since we both have our problems. Except Kaiden clearly needed the attention, he kinda almost begged for it, he was loud. And me, I tried hiding it, but the people who knew me best could easily uncover my pain. Like the extrovert and the introvert. It was either Kaiden going through a difficult period, and me having to take care of him, or the other way around. We were there for eachother, always. I suppose it made our friendship a very strong, hectic one too, because of that. The thing is, there was always drama going on in our lives, and we were both very involved in the situation. And things got even harder as the years were passing by.

The more we were together the unhealthier our friendship became. Over the last 5 years we did nothing but using drugs, annoy each other with the fact that we were junkies, fighting, throwing things at each other, beat each other up. But then there were good times coming again. And so we did fun things again. Then we started fighting again. But both of us were so damn drugged up. I was on heroin all the time, I would stay in the other room, alone in the dark, painting. Or lying on the bathroom floor listening to nice classic rock music. I mind my own business, that's just how heroin works. I wanted to be alone. But Kaiden wasn't on heroin, coke was his thing. It made him very different person, very high energy, always looking for a reason to fight. He would slam the fucking door while I was tripping in the bathroom, yelling at me "Let's go to the sea and put our clothes off! Right now! Come with me!", almost dragging me outside. But my mind couldn't process that very quickly when on heroin. His voice was echoing through my mind. I remember nights, when he was all hyped under influence of coke, and I was nodding next to him in the backseat of the car, far away from reality, no idea where I was and what we were doing. He carried me around like a puppet, but we were always together. Kaiden would fight literally anyone on cocaine. And whenever I looked at him, I just thought to myself "damn, this is not you, what the fuck". We turned out to be monsters, we created the worst versions of ourselves.

Anyway, when Kaiden came out as gay, or pansexual, or both, whatever - I still have no idea, but he clearly fell for men - he got involved in the gay scene, and he turned into some kind of sex maniac. He had a devoted boyfriend for awhile, Joone, whom he met in Finland while we were on vacation there, but then he cheated and started fucking the entire city of Toronto. He was the notorious crack whore of Toronto city, and he was happy to be so. He started to become careless, just like me, and you got drugs to blame for that. Cocaine turned him in the opposite of person he used to was, the person I used to like so much. That was all gone at some point. He disgusted me with his lifestyle. I didn't want to visit him anymore because even in the morning, the room smelled like sex and crack, there were naked guys lying on the carpet. And I don't have problems with the gay scene, not anymore, I have experimented this and that myself as well, but his life was just awfully disgusting. For real. I took my distance, continued my life as an introvert junkie in New York City, but Kaiden kept falling back to me. He'd call me and tell me he feels extremely sorry, crying and everything. And I swallowed those cries for help, for many many times. But Kaiden started working at a sex club for gays, it made him rich. He got paid for sex, and it seemed like everybody wanted to try him out. He could only perform while on cocaine. That sex club was everything to him at one point, and didn't care about anything else anymore. He didn't care for me anymore, he would even threaten me if I didn't shut up. I couldn't even disagree with him anymore, or open my mouth. But I still did. We had so many fights, physically as well. There were a lot of cocaine, tears and blood. I'm talking about the very end of our friendship now. This was the last chapter of us, really.

When I got back from Berlin, I visited him a couple of times still. He was clearly angry I lied to him about me being dead. Which I understand, because I lied to everyone. I was too embarrassed to admit another suicide attempt failed once again. But I will never forget the last conversation we had. It was december, very cold night in Toronto. I remember we were sitting with some of his hoes in the room, they were on coke, I joined a bit but not too much. I figured he started gossiping around with some guy, pointing at me and laughing at me. I didn't do shit, it made me moody as fuck, though. I just refused to talk all night. Went to the kitchen to get some booze. When Kaiden crossed me I just grabbed him and asked him, "what the fuck do you think you're doing bitch?" He just started laughing, he said something like, "just let me go to the bathroom, you schizophrenic thot". I remember looking him in the eyes, feeling furious inside, the anger boiling. I grabbed him, dragged him outside his apartment and just threw him on the ground. He told me all kind of things I will never forget. Made all kind of jokes about me being a 'schizophrenic' and just sick in the head, that I am just like my father, and of course he could because he knew all of my weaknesses. He hurt me so much. He started puching me and we pulled each others hair. It was nasty. He hurt me so much that I wanted to kill him, it triggerd my killer feelings again. I beat him up until he bled, left him lying in the snow and hit him with my car. It felt fucking amazing. Heard he was hospitalized, but didn't die. Unfortunately. I wish I fucking killed him. I really wish I had. Never saw him again, though. But this friendship lead us to a dead end lane. How can somebody you once loved so much betray you like that? How he gave all his support and cared for me while I was going through psychosis, delusions, hard times and end up calling me out for being schizophrenic? Fucking cokehead. Fucking worthless.

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aleksander0086-blog · 6 years

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Disasters of the past years.

2016, Berlin.

Back in 2016, my life got a little twisted. I was living in New York City for awhile back then. As we all know, I used to be a heavy drug abuser. My relationship with heroin was stronger than ever. I loved it more than anything else in the world. I got high everyday. I lived in an apartment for awhile, wasting the money I got from my mother's inheritance on hard drugs, as well as I paid my monthly rent. I could do whatever I wanted to do. But until 2016, I saw my friends getting on drugs as well, and I strongly felt another psychosis coming through. It wasn't there yet, but I felt it coming. It all became too much. So, I moved to Berlin. Pretty much to die there. Because I was feeling seriously suicidal. I said goodbye to some of my people here. But they reacted the same exact way as I expected them to say, "no, you won't kill yourself. I will see you around soon". And it made me mad. I wanted to move to Berlin, get high day and night, get my gun and pull the trigger. I wanted to push myself into the abyss. While I was there, I got seriously high, so fucking high, I could almost see heaven. I couldn't move, I was completely out of reality. I only felt the warmth, the rush in my veins. I was completely paralyzed for two weeks at least. I didn't eat, really. I didn't care for anything else but heroin and death. In the night of May 1st, I remember feeling really high, I may have put a little too much of the brown in my veins. I remember thinking, smoking my final cigarette, had my gun loaded, candles on. Now is the time. When I pulled the trigger, I thought I died. But I was still alive. I missed the bullet, although it went very closely along my head. I was too high to keep my focus. For an hour I thought I was dead, because I heard the loud shot, and I still felt amazing because of the heroin. That all ended when the police came to my door. The door I couldn't open because I was lying on the bathroom floor, too high to stand up and walk. The police slammed my apartment door and came through. I didn't know what they were saying, since I was high and don't speak German very well. But they arrested me. Everything went blank for awhile.

I waited in jail that night to sober up. But even then, I couldn't speak. Because I felt so many emotions at once. I felt failure. Sadness. Anger. But failure the most. I looked like a zombie. It turned out that my neighbours called the polizei that they heard a shot in the room next to them. They told the police the man who lived there never came out his apartment since he lived there. That was true. It was too suspicious, though. I am such a dumbass, was what I was thinking. I felt really lonely and miserable. I had no idea what the police was about to do with me. I didn't want to end up in jail, because that's what they began to tell me at some point when I started feeling sober again. But while I was sobering up, I felt the errors showing up in my head again. I felt the psychosis continuing. I got very paranoid at some point and the situation turned into a disaster. I tried to stay calm with the police, but I couldn't control myself. I got wild. I wanted to run away. I don't remember what I said, but those were really vague sayings of mine. The police realized they were dealing with a psychiatric patient, not just a suicidal junkie. So instead of putting me in jail, they were placing me in a psychiatric hospital. Here we go again.

I went there for three months. It was the first time I've gotten anti-psychotics. My psychiatrist there couldn't believe his ears, when I told them at the age of 30, I had never been on anti-psychotics for schizophrenia. I told him why. I told him I was not allowed because of my religion. Because I was scared for the Devil. I really was. When I told him that, he thought me believing in the Devil was another nonsense schizophrenia thing, but I had to explain him clearly that I grew up in a extremist Satanism sect. That, I had already let go of my religion for most part but still am damaged and afraid of the leftovers of Satanism. Because I was raised with stories about the Devil since I was a kid. Anyway, the anti-psychotics did a good job on me. It didn't numb everything entirely, but I felt more clear in my head and in my actions.

2016, New York City.

When I got back in New York, I had to wait until I could get anti-psychotics there. My girlfriend cared for me, day and night. She had her hands full on me. It made me feel guilty. Sometimes I got angry and tell her, "just leave me! I am not good for you. I am ruining your life. You deserve someone so much better", and she would tell me that she don't care about that. She loves me. Clearly. She can't imagine a life without me. But until today, it's still hard for me to believe that. But the longer I lived without medication, the harder my life became. During that time I got in a huge fight with my best friend K., he meant the world for me pretty much. But he emberrassed me. And he told shit about me. And I turned beastly furious. I remember being outside in the cold, as he yelled at me and hit me, but I punched him even harder, got in my car and hit him very hard. I laughed hysterically when I did it. He didn't die, unfortunately for me. But I really wanted to kill him. That happened in Toronto. While I was back in New York, the whole situation with K., clearly got my head twisted. I got really aggressive out of nowhere. I had dreams of killing him, and when I woke up I just wanted to take the next flight to come to Toronto and smash him with a hammer. My girlfriend had to stop me many times. My aggression comes in a very heavy rush, together with adrenaline, and it can be very dangerous. Because my girlfriend can try talking to me and stop me, but I couldn't listen to her, I lived too much by my plan.

At some point, during the night, I woke up, still a little drunk from the evening before, and I had a very aggressive dream about murdering K., that I snuck out of the apartment so my girlfriend wouldn't realize it, to go to the airport. But apparently, she heard. She came after me while I was walking to the car, in her PJ's. Screaming after me, "Come back here! Aleksander!", people were on the streets looking at the scene. I started running to my car. But she was fast, and pulled me back before I got in the car. She was furious. She started shaking me, and soon her anger turned into sadness. She started crying. "Why do you do this? Why can't you listen to me?". But I didn't feel anything for her. I got mad because I wanted to go to Toronto. I didn't listen to her. I started yelling that she needs to shut the fuck up and let me go. People on the street started to interfere. My girlfriend wouldn't stop crying, she didn't let go of me, she wanted to stop me. I yelled her to stop crying because people are calling the police. And she got mad because she was kinda sick of my stubborness and paranoia. Then I hit her. Very hard. Some big Mexican guy started to fight me because I hit her. People were calling the police. That's when I got arrested again. In jail, I felt so much regret. So much guilt. I still felt numb but I couldn't show off any emotion. The police asked me so many questions but my speech was kinda disorganized. I didn't even know why it happened, why I did it. Why the fuck did I hit her. I stayed in jail for 2 days. My girlfriend left a note saying she went to her family in Italy for a few months to think about what happened.

I felt devastated. I started shooting up again in my apartment. People were knocking on my door but I wouldn't open it for them. After a month of isolating myself, I made the decision to get myself completely boozed up. It was about 3AM. I took the car. I drove to the river to crash myself. I was too fed up. I drove 50 mph on a straight lane, drunk. Crashed into the river. I was sinking. I was almost there, I thought to myself. The windows closed. I only saw darkness. I don't know exactly what happened anymore, because it was a very heavy moment and I was way too drunk. But eventually, I got 'saved'. By a fisherman. It took him some time to get me out of the car, as he smashed my window, but it was too dark, and my body was too heavy in the water. I didn't want to go with him but he pulled me out. I remember how cold it was when I sat with him on the jetty. And my mind went numb. He told me all kind of things, since he was traumatized but I wasn't. I just remember thinking by myself, "why do I keep getting saved? Why can't I just kill myself?". I remember standing up and wanting to push him in the water to drown him, but he was a very heavy man and I was this skinny guy. He pulled me back and yelled at me "What is wrong with you!?". I somehow, got in charge and started smashing him with a iron plate I found next to the jetty under a container. I wanted to kill him. I punched him really hard with my fists. There was a lot of blood. I remember. But everything ended as soon the police arrived. I got arrested, again. The fisherman, he wasn't dead, but heavily abused and hospitalized. Me, I was sentenced in jail for a year, for domestic violence.

2017, New York City.

Damn well, I deserved it. I deserved it so bad. I realized that. I remember thinking all the time, "what in the Hell am I doing?". I hit my friend with my car, I abused my girlfriend, just like the fisherman who saved my life. I realized that I crossed the line, big time. The time I was in jail, I still had a lot of anger issues because all the men were assholes just like me. I am brutally honest with everybody. I got punched a lot. There was a lot of drama. I was sober at the same time, so I was withdrawing as well. And that period of time was a living Hell. But I did get my anti-psychotics there, so things could be even worse. Jail was a difficult time for me. But I fucking deserved it. And it made me think about lots of things. How can I win my girlfriends heart over again? What can I do to make it up to people? I wasn't only a prick to my girlfriend and strangers in the streets, as well as very devoted friends of mine. Close friends. Very close friends. I realized that all of that is my own frustration, and I had to work on that to get my life back.

Once I was fired from jail, I refused to get back on drugs. I wanted to look good, by eating well, and excercise. I started looking for jobs. I still have a degree on mechanical engineering and innovation sciences. It's just that drugs were more important to me than getting a serious job for a greater part in my life. After 33 rejections, I was finally approved by a company. I work as a full stack/ Engineer in a company specialized for employees who have a similar background like me. So, I do a great job, I get to hear often. But they do know where I come from and give me all the support I need to accomplish my tasks there. It's a part time job, but I am very happy with it. I had the job, I started to look better and healthier, ready to visit my girlfriend again.

She went back to Italy once again, so I went to Italy to surprise her. Hoping she would give me another chance. If she would turn me down, I would be very disappointed, even though I understand. I had the address of her grandma's home. She was the woman who opened the door, and I never even met her. She looked at me, grumpy and all, and yelled at my girlfriend in Italian. She looked at me as if she knew what I did to her granddaughter. Tara came down. And damn, she looked like a queen. I had to get her back. We went outside and started walking. She didn't say much, she couldn't even look me in the eyes. She looked at the ground. I couldn't find the right words but I tried my hardest. I told her a hundred times I felt sorry. But there were no right words. I remember how we sat down underneath some kind of lemon tree or something. I ran my fingers through her red hair, but she pushed my arm away. She told me that loving me is the hardest and most beautiful thing she has ever felt. I let her talk, and say whatever she wanted to get off her chest. She told me that for awhile she was very afraid of me, especially after hearing I almost beat the fisherman to death. She wouldn't let me touch her either. She said her love for me is so strong, it scares her. When she finally looked me in the eyes, I felt happy she did. I wouldn't touch her anymore. I told her that things are going to change from now on. She told me that she still needs the time to think things through, that she will be back in NYC in 2 weeks, but can't promise me anything. I could feel from our conversation, her soft voice, and the entire energy around it that everything she told me is the truth. And I have to live with that from now on. It was okay. It was worth the ticket to Italy, definitely.

While I was back in New York, I wanted to wake up the good inside of me. I know that I am a very polite, gentle person, naturally. I am just really damaged by a lot of things in life. But I am really trying my best. I didn't have a warm, happy home. I have never had the family feeling, that everybody's talking about. I never gotten love from my family, except from my mother but that scared me and quickly was 'too much' for me. I was too young to understand love anyway. So when I hurt somebody I really love, I do ANYTHING to take them back. Except for my girl. She's the only one I have. I am just very bitter and pessimistic. The drug habit didn't help me to become a better, more positive person, either. I know what it's like to have a good laugh with friends, to get tears from laughing, to goof around, I do all of that. But sometimes I go through phases when I just forget about what 'fun' is. And I need to get myself back on track before I lose everything. I was already sober for more than a year, I looked good and have a job now. I only need my girlfriend to trust me again and come back to me. I still had a hard time to stay off drugs, and I really needed my girlfriend to support me and help me get through this awful, long phase. When I go out in the streets of New York, and I accidently end up in the wrong neighbourhood, I smell the scent of brown sugar everywhere, I see the homeless getting high and wanna join them. But don't want to end up like them. It's very hard. I still think of it everyday. And I just want that everytime things get hard for me, to give my girl a long, big hug. And talk about it with her. We always had so many good conversations, and I'm gonna miss that if she decides to break up with me.

In the evening, still living and feeling alone in my city apartment everyday, I would spend the late hours watching some television and texting with friends. Maybe reading a book, now and then. I had to drink three glasses of vodka and 3 pills of anti-psychotics to get a bit of sleep. This was an everynight thing for me. Everynight I hoped for Tara to come back, because I missed her next to me. I just knew everything is going to be so much better with her back in my life again. During one night, I heard something in the other room, thought it was our cat, so I went back to sleep. I heard the sirens of an ambulance outside in the streets passing by. Some people yelling outside. Later, I woke up and surprisingly saw my beautiful girl sitting next to me. We didn't say anything to each other, I just woke up and we held each other. She started crying. It was kinda beautiful. I felt a lot of emotions. And I couldn't let her go from now on. I think we held eachother for an hour. I was so happy she came back. And we fell asleep together. And damn, I couldn't be happier. Life has gotten so much better with her back in my life. I am so lucky to have her.

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