Kraken's Journal

Part 10, death.

Hi again. 

this isn't going to be a haha funny entry.

I can barely bring myself to capitalize half my words. So yeah, I guess this is what happens after a while.

I want to scrap the fever dream. I still get joy in writing it, but I don't want to put it out into the world. And by wanting to scrap it, it makes me not want to type it, despite it being a major coping mechanism for me. This journal is a major coping mechanism for me and I want to scrap this almost every day.

I don't know why I write. I mean I do know why, it makes me happy, but I don't know why I even put it out for you to see. Its not like you care. 

most of you are strangers, so why the hell would you care?

"I'm just the words on the page."

I said that, and it's becoming more real every day. I am the words that you project yourself on, the words you relate to, maybe even the words you care about. But that's all I am, words.

I'm a person, I tell myself, I like music, my favorite bands are Lemon Demon and Tally Hall. I play the cello, I'm not the best at it. I used to read every night, now I can't even open up a book. I like Johnny Depp movies, I live in a transphobic house hold as a non-binary person.

I am a person.

I am not a school grade, I am not the words on the page, I am not fiction, I am real.

Than why don't I feel real?

Why do I feel like my value isn't my interests, but instead the grade I get in school, and the words that I write? Is this all that life has to give me?

A panic attack every night because you don't have people to talk to? Because you cant sleep without a nightmare? And you talk to people on a call so you don't have to hear the voices tell you to fucking end it all?! Voices that your own mom knows about but won't take you to a doctor for?

I think death is a soft feeling, Death would be like vertigo that never ends. It's a harsh float, staring at a clear blue sky, never dropping towards a ground that you can't see, never shooting skywards into the void of space. Just suspended in blue. And then its black, and you never have to worry again. I hope death is like that. No religion to add to the stress of living. just empty, no thoughts, no sounds, just nothing.

I'm not better, but I guess I really am just the words on the page.