It’s Christmas again. And what have you done? Another year wasted. A new one still to come.
32 years. I can remember the past dozen. Some were ok. Everything that was fun is just a bitter memory of the past. With an unlikelyhood that things will get better. So I’m hiding in my room again. Like a god-damn teenager, but I can no longer blame it on hormones. Now it’s just *me*.
I’m educated, rich enough and slightly underweight. Not particularly attractive. My family is kind and mildly successful without being conceited.
“I never let on, that I was on a sinking ship”
Noone has contacted me for days. I can no longer live with the self-destructive decisions I’ve made. The future is a slow, desperate slide into a deeper cesspit of indifferent crap.
You think your Xmas presents matter? Well guess what? I didn’t fucking buy any. I had no more interest to figure out what people wanted. I wish to God you didn’t buy me any ‘cos now I’ll have to feel like the fucking scrooge.
I’ve lost all will or energy to continue. I wish I could lay down and die. And I can’t even do that because it would fuck up my family. Yeah suicide would be too fucking selfish. So I need to march on.
I know I’m dead already but *they* don’t know it yet.
Walking ghost phase.
Look it up.
And that would be the only way I could kill myself: thermo-fucking-nuclear explosion. Instant vaporization. No chance to feel pain. No chance to mess it up. Nothing to clean up. Since I was ten or twelve I knew that would be the only way. Hard to accomplish, but easier on those left behind.
Cue: “Terrible Lie” – NiN