Thoughts

Apathy is Death

*This entry contains references to suicide*

It's been some time since I checked in, since I remembered to update this thing, as I predicted.

Originally, I deleted this entry three times out of mania; I couldn't grapple  with my emotions, let alone share them anywhere...but then it occurred to me that this is a void of text to which even the people that hear it, cannot rescue me from. And thus, I scream.

I could physically tear myself limb from limb, or run to the end of this Earth if only it led me to an ocean I could jump into...It's something about pain for some reason; I don't cut, but my hands/throat are sore from screaming and hitting things/myself and I could feel ACTUAL pleasure from dragging something across my arms, or to just crush them with a hammer...

I don't know.

Lack-of-contact reinforces the idea I'm just bothering everyone with this, that it's triggering for some, that others don't care/care enough/in the right way..

And when I'm in a rage it feels GOOD to let it go, to scream, to punch, to have a way to feel all this... Energy in a way I can actually conceptualize...

But that frustration comes off as anger, comes off as rude and disqualifying of the fact that I'm not in control of it.

I had a discussion with a friend about why I don't own a gun, he advised me not to, knowing my mental state.

I told him:

"After a forensics team is done with their investigation, they do not clean anything. Unless you hire a team, you have to clean your own house (as the loved one).

I couldn't imagine my mom having to clean my brains from the wall.

It would be much easier if there was still a body left behind in relatively good shape: organs can be donated, and the rest, given to the earth (cremated) or to science (for entomological study).

I want to provide for what I have taken. Both from the people and this planet".

And then it hit me that this was the closest to a Note I've been since I was a preteen feeling these same emotions, since I was a teenager, since I was in my early twenties feeling these things and using Alcohol to quell them. Only now, I can't see the floor beneath, and I want only the pitfall followed by the release of sleep, to have a final burst and immediately pass out, to scream until I faint, to let water burn my lungs until I fade out, another blip in this existence, another random person in his own corner of the world that, in the grand scheme of things will make no difference alive or not.

I'm just me, and I'm tired of it.