FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!! Still here.

On the plus side, I did finally purchase the second shotgun needed for the exit. On the bad side, I seem to have talked myself into going back and “trying one more time.”

It is incredibly stressful to wake up and realize that today’s the day you promised yourself you would kill yourself. By the middle of the day, you’ve talked yourself out of it…again…and convinced yourself that there’s too many people who love you to go out now without trying one more time.

I’d like to think that knowing that there are two loaded shotguns waiting at home with its name on them would convince my fucking brain that this is its last chance to straighten up and fly right and actually get some fucking work done. Note to brain: that’s why they call that place “work”. But I just know I’m going to sit down tomorrow at my desk, look at the code I’m supposed to be finishing up, and find, once again, that shit I wrote just a few weeks ago, with comments and all, now looks like gibberish.

I know people who are out of work and desperately looking for something. Anything. And here I sit at the job I always wanted, starring at the screen all fucking morning until I finally give up and surf, just to forget how bad I feel. There is no worse temptation known to man than the temptation to stop feeling like shit.

If someone would just run me over with a cement mixer so that my parents could grieve and then accept it as a freak accident, I would be much obliged.