its not like they’ll search for this. i feel safe here, my dark blue page. i sometimes wish that someone WOULD find this page, so i can have more reason to be motivated to end my life, but alas, wishing is for birthday candles and little kids. i feel like those who need this will read it and take it in, and no one i know will ever gain enough interest to uncover it, even if i scripted it out for them, because on a mature level, i have come to understand that even i myself can not evade the selfishness of being human. – i work off this idea when i am here. i am alone in my little world. in a room full of crowded people, i am still alone. My love, my blue page full of words that move me. i relate. the consistency of feeling utterly useless. sometimes you succeed in covering the darkness up, sometimes your mind is so exhausted you give slight clues that your thoughts are wandering. those of us that are good at being emotionally manipulative can alter the thoughts of the others surrounding us, and when we are caught “red handed” we have the ability to force them to really believe WE ARE OKAY. but really we are NOT OKAY and we know it. what you don’t know is how long the wave of tension, of heartache, of depression will take to break on a tranquil sandy beach. it just happens sporadically, and then… there, the magic page. this magic page. an alter ego manifests in the middle of the night. a constant reminder that i haven’t completed a single goal, and haven’t racked up even the simplest of tasks. idiots have done more with their life than i have.
this life now doesn’t matter.
nothing ever has mattered, and nothing will ever matter.
and then this dark blue page. we all feel the same way. where the fuck is the gun already?