The loneliness of depression isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.
One feels like a seagull swooping for scraps — scraps of love, scraps of undivided attention.
One of my darkest moments took place after my brother Damian died of toxicity of alcohol and drugs in the blood.
Was it an accidental overdose? Or a suicide? Our family will never know.
The saddest thing about Damian’s death is he died on the kitchen floor in his bedsitter. The neighbours saw him lying there through the curtains but didn’t think anything of it because it was a regular occurrence for him.
Did Damian lie there for a long time before he died?
Did he think of me or Mum or Dad in his final moments?
Was his death fast or agonizingly slow?
In the wake of COVID-19, mental health experts warn that suicides will increase globally as the pandemic upends people’s lives.
Suicidal ideation and actions taken towards one’s demise were referred to twenty-five times in The Metamorphoses by Roman poet, Ovid — in reaction to grief and plague.
People ending their lives prematurely, instead of living their days with the constant fear of death.
Any human being with an ounce of heart or soul would be consumed right now by how our individual actions could be responsible for the death of an elderly person or someone who is immune compromised.
Yet, when we open our portals to the world, we discover an endless supply of selfish people unable to unite — even in a crisis. The me-me-me song has never been turned up so loud.
While the rest of us spend our days isolated in a constant state of panic and anxiety for humankind. The increasing cluster of arseholes are concerned about the dent to their social lives and bank balances.
No-one wants to look back and realise they were on the wrong side of history. No-one wants to look back only to realise they have the worthiness of a cretin.
I am absolutely terrified…
Yet all I can offer you — is my love and words.