Those missing bits of time

In a move that is probably detrimental to my already unstable stability, I've taken to listening to "I Don't Like To Get Dirty" by The Ropes....repeatedly. A part of me hopes it will trigger the lost moments from the suicidal death walk I went on back in April. Why might it do that? Because it was the song I was listening to on my iPod as I walked along, patiently waiting for the moment when I'd simply keel over and die.

There is much from that night that I still don't remember, so much happened after I blacked out that I'm desperately searching to reclaim those lost memories. They have to be there somewhere because as far as I know, I was still in motion up until I crashed to the floor of the fire station even though I had blacked out prior to that.

I think the urge to remember was spurred on by my last therapy appointment and the realization that no one except myself (and the readers of this blog) have any idea what happened that night. But even I don't know everything and I feel that if I could just grasp on to those missing bits of time, I might be able to prevent myself from going down that path again. A path that at this moment feels even more inviting than it did the first time.

Is the song depressing? Maybe. I guess it depends on the person and their mood. When I listen to it, it just makes me very angry. That night in April I was singing the line "you can all go fuck yourselves" to every mental health worker I'd ever dealt with, to every person in my life that had ever physically prevented me from killing myself, because I knew, at that particular moment in time, there was finally no one around to stop me from dying and it felt so damn liberating.

There's a huge irony with the whole "I don't like to get dirty" part. I have never gotten as dirty before in my entire life as I did that night after falling into the mud by the library. After trying to dig my sandals out of the mud that felt like quicksand. I have managed to regain one vague memory, after having been shackled to the bed in the ER, of a nurse calmly offering to wash my hands and feet clean of the mud that had been caked onto them. Remember her asking my father, or maybe me, how I had gotten so dirty.

"I Don't Like To Get Dirty" - The Ropes
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go burn in hell
But if there's anything you need at all I would help you out
I'll be the one who cheers
When the end is near
But if someone had to save the day I guess I'd volunteer

Cuz, my life doesn't mean a thing to me
The only reason I haven't put myself in the ground already
Is I don't like to get dirty
I don't like to get dirty, yeah
I don't like to get dirty
I don't like to get dirty, yeah

You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You so-called tortured souls
But I'll cover your ears so you won't hear the screams and moans
If I could I'd just
Throw the earth into the sun
But I'd cover your eyes until my hand melted off

No, life doesn't mean a thing to me
The only reason I haven't put myself in the ground already
Is I don't like to get dirty
I don't like to get dirty, yeah
I don't like to get dirty
I don't like to get dirty, yeah

And I don't want a funeral
Cuz I don't like people looking at me
And I don't want to get married
Cuz I don't want someone touching me
I'm fine
I really want to die
Tonight, I really want to die
But don't worry
No don't worry
I won't hurt me
I won't hurt me

Cuz I don't like to get dirty
I don't like to get dirty, yeah
I don't like to get dirty
I don't like to get dirty, yeah

You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves
You can all go fuck yourselves

(The video isn't much to look at, I just added it so people could hear the song.)