>>From: Belacqua
>>To: Perdita
>>Subject: strange night
>>Date: Wed, 22 Nov 2000

I accidentally forgot to take my medicine yesterday morning, and I figured, shit, it's not doing anything anyway, so who cares if I miss a dosage. Oh my god, I had no idea how totally dependent on it I was. I had been feeling a little weird all day, but the alcohol and lack of medication and god knows what else made me have the weirdest night's sleep I've ever had in my entire life. I woke up at 2:30 and felt absolutely drunk off my ass, but it had been hours at that point since I’d had a drink, so that wasn't it. I really felt like I had completely lost touch with reality. I was lying in bed and I didn't know where I was. I felt like I was floating underwater and my thoughts were in these bubbles that were floating all around me and I couldn't make any sense out of any of them. I just laid there and felt like I was being rolled around in some invisible tide and absolutely NOTHING made any sense at all. I almost grabbed the phone and called you, but as soon as the thought would come into my mind, I couldn't figure out how to do it. I was babbling something out loud and moving around and god knows what. I wanted to get up and take my pills but I didn't know how and I forgot why I wanted to as soon as I wanted to do it. And I would feel so panicked for a minute and then forget why. I would try to grab ahold of myself and not know why I should want to do that. I couldn't go back to sleep because I didn't know why I should want to be asleep. It was kind of nice, really. I was so removed from everything that I just didn't feel anything. At some point, I thought I was dead. I was floating around and thinking, “Wow, this is such a relief to be done struggling and wondering. Finally I can just be peaceful.” But then some piece of sense came, and I realized that if I could think I was dead I must not be, and that was disappointing, but whatever.

I just got back from an early morning appointment, which I almost slept through, but it went okay. I'm still not entirely here. I keep having withdrawal flashes where I feel like I'm going to pass out. It's what happened to me when I cut my meds in half, and I'm only now realizing that's what happened. I have no coordination and I can barely think or type. Now I'm halfway worried about what I said in my e-mail last night. I don't know why. I just panic when I let my guard down, but I have lost absolutely all concern for myself now. If I went too far and overestimated things (which I still don't feel like I did) then what's the worst that can happen. If I didn't overestimate, then I have something to look forward to and chances are we'll be dead together soon enough. I keep oscillating between feeling completely numb and feeling like a tornado has just hit a nail factory and is turning its cargo all through my head. I wonder if I'd feel it if I swerved into a semi going 80mph on my way home?

We were reading a poem in my Irish lit class, and something I had known but forgotten came back to me. The poet was talking about his "tristia." That’s Latin for sadness: deep, human sadness, an intensely personal sadness. Tristia. Trista. Perdita. Tristia is the adjective; the word for deep, dark, severe depression is tristitia.

It's still wonderful I died for beauty,
But was scarce adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth
Was lain in an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
'For beauty,' I replied.
'And I for truth, the two are one;
We brethren are,' he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.

Emily Dickinson is an amazing poet. I don't know where that came from. It was in my head. I hope you have a really good day, and I hope to hear from you soon.

I love you.
Belacqua

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>From: Perdita
>To: Belacqua
>Subject: Re: strange night
>Date: Wed, 22 Nov 2000

Belacqua,

Help. I'm freaking out. I don't know why, and I know there's nothing you can do about it right now, but I had to write to you because I know you're the only one who can understand. I was perfectly fine just ten minutes ago, and now I'm flipping out. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. I just talked to you probably less than an hour ago, and I was fine then, too. Now I'm not.

You know what I just did? I just went outside for a cigarette that I had to bum off some guy here at work because I don't want to buy any more before I get home or else my parents will kill me, so I went outside with this cigarette and I sat down in the cold and everything should've been just fine, but all of a sudden I started freaking out about dying. This has never happened to me before. I've always just wanted the thoughts to end and the world to end and all the pain and torture to end, but now I'm flipping out. Why am I scared all of a sudden?

I have Puppy here with me, thankfully, and he's keeping me company, but I don't think that's helping much right now. I hate flipping out at work and I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I'm flying tonight and flying fucking stresses me out, but I'm totally fucking paranoid about seeing my parents, and I just want to run around screaming to everyone that the world is about to end because I'm gonna die. I'm so pulled into Columbine right now that I'm just seeing visions of myself downtown with an AR-15, fucking blowing people away and you're there and we're about to fucking kill ourselves, and I'm so fucking worried about my parents.

What the fuck? For once in my life, can't I just be selfish? Can't I do something that will just end all the pain and all the suffering and make everything the way it should've been from the start? Can't I just fucking make it stop? Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it....

I'm terrified. I've never felt so scared in my life. Death has never EVER seemed like something to be afraid of, but now all of a sudden, I'm flipping out about it. I don't even have any of my knives with me because I had to fucking leave them at home because of airport security, so I can't even fucking cut myself to make it stop. I can't do anything. I'm just stuck here feeling miserable and terrified and I don't know why, and I just wish you were here so I could at least feel less alone. Goddammit, make it stop.

I hate to write you this e-mail when you might not even get it until much later, but I had to do something, and I want to write about it in my journal, but I can't do that or else the whole fucking world will know that I'm planning on killing myself. So just ignore this if it's much later than Wednesday. Just know that I had to get it out somehow and I'm thinking of you and how much I wish we were together to fucking take on the world.

I love you.
Perdita