suicide hotline
Back With A Slash


     Now, I wouldn't be rightfully entitled to write an article called Suicide Hotline if I wasn't, well, suicidal or at least half wacked. All general instability aside I haven't been sincere in my death wish for a couple years...meaning I have given up actually attempting suicide for occasionally day dreaming about my death bed.
     With that said, what has Annie M been doing in her spare time these past long months? Sometime around April I had a full fledged nervous breakdown coupled with a tad of the old nasty drug plague. Constantly climbing the walls of my inner skin were Anxiety and Drug Withdrawl...two good friends of mine whom I first met during the Nuerontin daze. Fearing that I was turnin full blown paranoid schitzophrenic, I tentatively tip toed to the local Nord Center for a quick objective 3rd party outlook on the situation (although I failed to mention that I had been routinely ingesting considerable quantities of Oxycotin, Methadone, and Herion to combat my nervosa). First I was handed a script for Topamax (anti-convulsant), when that didn't work I was given an Rx for Geodon (anti-psychotic) and when that ultimately failed to alleviate my symptoms my doctor simply stated "I don't think there is anything really wrong with may need to accept this as the way you are and get your life together".
     What did it all mean? Was I being cleared of my manic depressive label? Was I no longer to be classified as a clinical paper weight? Was I now officially a regular old fuck-up who couldn't keep her shit together? Truth be told my general welfare and self care had flown out the window. I was unemployed and drifting. Rolling other peoples cigarette butts for a hit of my own. I had no concept of a future or life plan.
     Suddenly I realized that I had been acting like a pussy ass cry baby and that if modern medicine had no solution for me then I would just have to put my life back in my own hands. Here is what my general day consisted of when worst went worse. I would wake up on one of several couches or beds. If I had O, M, H, or V I used it immediately to fight THE FEAR. If not, I would see who was around the house grounds and wait for someone to share with me. By this time my paranoia was usually so overwhelming I was checking my blood pressure and pulse upwards of six times a day.

     Gee, that was interesting wasn't it? See, what all this boils down to is my problem with IT and how IT (anxiety) leads to THEM (drugs)...although I think I'll finish that up some other time. Right now I want to talk about something else entirely like desperation for meaning in a highly toxic world and the ill fated search for purpose.
     During my drug lull and life collapse (which was brought about by an identity crisis, shoddy move, and having a breakdown of all friendships)...well fuck that. Let me put it to you this way...I floundered, and went belly up like a fucking dog after unexpectedly being faced with unemployment, disconnection, and dissolution. Here is an illustration for you...

     The U.S.S Annie M was close to capsizing and collecting bass shit on the lake bottom with miraculously I woke up one day back at the helm with all engines souped up and ready for blast off. Even though I woke up, the only problem was/is that I'm still in the fucking Burmuda Triangle. Power failure and engine breakdown are just one wrong G.P.S calculation away. Life boats and other ships are nowhere in radar distance. Simply put, I am a lone bleep on a screen...things are dire but if I fuck up again IT will come back and I will have nothing but THEM for help. This is the most terrorizing possibility I have ever faced; worse than molestation, physical torture, spinal surgery, deformity, abandonment etc. I have found out I am incompetent to steam, clean, focus, and lead myself put in layman's terms. I went from the dead zone back into limbo...happy land is on the horizon but the fucking navigation system is out.
     I know my life is at stake. If I go back into the dead zone I very well may not come back out because I am 100% certain that if I commit suicide it will be during and because of IT. IT is like a surprise whirlpool, IT happens when the sea gets to rough. IT comes when there is no destination for the U.S.S Annie M.
     Right now, in limbo, things are safe and steady. From my telescope I can see several possible phantom ports but the wrong move could land me in a mirage and portal back into the dead zone. Knowing this I am paralyzed. Power is on, I see options ahead...but nothing is guaranteed. I am idling and waiting. I could possibly keep existing like this for years, fuck, maybe even the rest of my life...but that is the weak path. Holding up and gathering my resources isn't a bad idea but I need movement as not to stagnate. The worst thought is that no matter what I do, IT will come back and I will kill myself like a cowards...and worst of all...lets face it folks...I am running out of room on my body for more self inflicted burn scars. Something’s got to give and I've got to make sure it's not me.



Anne McMillen (AKA) AnnieM is a manic depressive who is currently living on the charity of her brothers couch. She is very single although there is a certain girl whose pants Annie is dying to get into, and there is also a guy who has a script for Oxycotin that Annie’s been thinking of “dating”. In her free time (which is all of her time) she enjoys substance abuse, video games, reading philosophy (because she is that pretentious), listening to music, and being a normal asshole from Ohio. When not busy playing pool or online spades, Annie some how fines time to write, obsessivly compulsivly, leaving her with a large arsenal of words she plans on unleashing on the “free” world.

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