It’s one of those mornings. I haven’t slept at all, and I should be at school. I can’t even be bothered to take a shower, despite the odor in my bedroom. I only leave my room to eat, piss, shit, or to grab a smoke. The last couple of months, I’ve been tying and untying a noose every other night. Some nights, I get as far as standing on a chair, with the damn thing around my neck, ready to jump. Then, panic and the instinct of self-preservation kicks in.
The thing is; I’m not sad. I don’t feel depressed. I don’t want to cry. I’m not angry at anything. I’m just… Physically alive, without a single fucking logical purpose to exist. Every day is the same absurd crap; Â consumption of food, urination, defecation, sleep, etc. All the stuff in-between, as social interaction, is just as pointless. It’s a lot like masturbation to me – I know there’s a better alternative, but I still do it.
Ironically, sex doesn’t satisfy me either. Nor do drugs. I’m a social user of cannabis, and I’ve had some pretty fun high times, but as my motivation to exist faded, so did the fun of getting stoned. All I can think while smoking now, is “Why the hell am I doing this? It’s not as great as it used to be, so why bother?”
I’m considered as smart, often referred to as “the IQ of the group”, and I admit that’s partially true. I’m not stupid, and my IQ is in fact just below levels of geniosity. This is probably the most demotivating thing in my life – I know I can do amazing stuff, but I just don’t. Unused potential. I’m like some sophisticated machinery, slowly covering myself in rust, only taking up space. Â The only things that make me feel better are starting to seem repulsive. The thought of doing something just to have a slightly better day is just ridiculous – why bother, when it doesn’t matter?
So yeah, I see no reason to live, but I’m too much of a coward to hang myself or slash my wrists, too poor to buy enough of any kind of drug I could OD on, and I’ve got no access to guns or cars, so I can’t spraypaint the walls with my brain, and I can’t give an exhaust pipe a blowjob.
Oh, and there’s this other thing too… I’m too afraid to hurt my friends and family to actually kill myself. Too bad that suicide is pretty much all I can think of.