I’m back to “F*ck all of this” again…

Not really even sure what I’m going to accomplish by posing to this website. I hate my life. It’s a pretty miserable existence being me. Not because I live in Africa where I have no food and poor hygiene. Not because I’m terminal with cancer. Not even because I was born to a horrible family that abused me. None of that. After everything that has happened to me in the past couple years especially, I can’t find a reason to keep going. I hate my god-forsaken fucking life. I hope I die soon. I hope to effect that change soon. And just so there is no confusion: I love you Mom, Dad, Brothers, Dogs.

But basically I’m not sure what to do with myself anymore. I just can’t find a reason to live again. I know I shouldn’t be smoking pot again, but it’s not just the pot. Even before I was smoking pot again, when I was clearing up all my debt and things were on the up, I still hated life and came home every night barely able to give you the attention I did. I was horribly sad. I still am. I’m horribly sad right now. Sitting in my living room. This apartment really isn’t that bad. But fuck it, why do I care about living here at all? No one comes to see me. No reason to. I don’t blame them. I’m rarely ever in anyone’s thoughts. I get the text messages the day after the event if at all. My circle of friends is small and while I do love my friends I’m really not doing myself anything good by hanging out with these people. They can barely be there for themselves and I don’t want to keep burdening everyone with my acrimony.

I’ve taken an extra two days off work now. I told my boss that I had a problem and was stuck in the bathroom. I think I will go back to work tomorrow just to keep things up until I figure out how I’m going to make this happen. I’ve got plenty of good ideas on how to accomplish it. I want to get away from the city. Into the wilderness maybe. I want to be away from it all, at peace, when I go. I don’t want to wake up and I don’t even think I can get a gun. Oh yeah, I’m the train guy from a few months back. I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long. I was breaking down before November when I started smoking again… this is… I mean no one can say that I never tried. I always tried. I try my heart out. I kill myself to keep more than just my life afloat but my dysfunctional workplaces life. I hate my life. No one cares about me. I’m just a speck in everything. When I’m gone people will hardly ever know.

When I’m gone, the manager here at the apartment will get a knock on the door to investigate my place since (if everything goes to the plan so far) I will go missing before I’m discovered a suicide (if at all). He’ll let them in, eventually he’ll oversee someone moving my stuff out (maybe my parents? not sure how that works after I’m gone) but who really cares. There’s hardly anything of value here, none of which will probably make any difference in whomever’s life it enters after my death. Anyway, he’ll just advertise and find a new tenant.

I hope my family never has to deal with my body being discovered. This way they will never have a confirmation that I died of suicide. Which really complicates how to go about doing some of this. Anyway. My workplace will just hire someone new (if anyone, they might just move someone else into my position) and their lives will go on. In a few days no one will notice I was gone. None of them ever think to call me now anyway.

The *ONE* “circle” of friend I have right now outside of work, I never hear from them either, they will probably just forget about me when I stop answering calls. It may happen that they will visit my apartment on a day that someone connected to my disappearance. One day someone in any of these groups might ask “what ever happened to [him]” and it won’t matter and I will slip into the past. If someone has a photo of me then they might remember something about me, but most people don’t even have a picture of my face. No one wants to buddy up with me for a picture. No one thinks to call me about anything. I’m the weirdo. That crazy suicidal guy that we all have good reason to doubt. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s so braggadocio about his job and what a jerk and there’s no reason for me to respond to him or stay true to my word or actually be a friend to someone who is trying for just that.

I’ve barely got any debt. Some recent medial debt is on the ledger but who cares, they hardly did anything for me anyway so I won’t feel bad skipping out on that. I won’t feel bad skipping out on a debt for “education” from the University of Phoenix. What a fucking joke that was. One goddamn semester and I owe those fuckers six grand for a “this is  mouse, it connects to a computer, which has a CD-ROM”-level education. I won’t be being a jerk is my point. I wouldn’t want to leave anyone hanging with any of my bags and this way I won’t be. I’m finally out on my own, my debt is negligible and my impact on the world is immeasurable.

I’m so sick of people. I don’t hate them. But I can’t stand being a human being anymore. I can’t find a reason to want to live. I can’t figure out why I want to do anything ever. I can’t get back into any of the fun things I once did in the past. I can’t find a reason to get outside of my house. I’ve barely been outside my apartment in the past few days. I can’t bring myself to face anything because I can’t find happiness in anything and then I end up stuck in my apartment smoking a $60 1/4-oz. of good ganja in a period of like 4 days I can’t stand it any more. I have no life. My life has no meaning. I make no difference to myself. I make no difference in anyone’s life. And I am sorry. to my aunt and my relatives who do know me and who will think of me in the days that follow my disappearance. I know somewhere in my heart I do love you. I’m sorry for hurting any of you.

I just can’t keep up with this anymore. I’ve done terrible things in my life. I am unforgivable. I hate myself for what I’ve become. I have nothing left to give. I am what I see in the world and that is a mess and I won’t keep doing this to myself and I can’t find a reason or the want to keep trying and I wish it would all just fucking stop. I wish this could be as easy as a quick bullet to the goddamn head right now. That would be so much easier. I’d be so much happier right now. I’d be dead. I wouldn’t be sitting here tearing up typing up this mess of garbage and god damnit I hate my fucking life and I want to get the fuck out of here and I wish all of this was over and I wish I didn’t have to see it or hear it or deal with any of it anymore I just can’t take it the world is too fucking stupid and fucking fucked the fuck up and people are so goddamn fucking selfish and stupid and it hurts for me to live and i just wish this all was off and not in my head anymore and i want it all to stop and to go the fuck away and to leave me the goadshg;kjasghakljdhg;kasdhga;ljfdhg;lkashglf adhg’oshfl;drkhg fucking leave me the fuck alone.

I hate my life. This sucks. What is any of this for? Who cares about me and why should I keep doing this? I know parts of these answers but mostly I just want to stop trying to get past the parts I don’t know because no matter how good I do and no matter how right I try to do by others and no matter how much I pour my heart into all of this shit nothing gets better for me and it always gets ugly for me and I always get to this point where things would have been better for everyone if I never came along and I should be dead anyway. I should have kept my mother fucking head on the god damn train tracks last year. I should’ve let that fucking engine plow the fuck out of my face ad leave a steaming pile of blood and other mess all over because if I was dead WHO WOULD GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT ME?! no one. the family i lived with at the time didn’t even think to call my family when all of this happened. I hope they got shot in the face those fuckers, threatening my life and I’m some how the bad guy. FUCK YOU. I should’ve kept my head on the god damn train tracks and ended this a long time ago.

I could go into the kitchen right now. I saw a pretty gruesome pick of someone’s slit wrist earlier today. I think it was on some Forensic blog on Tumblr. They cut across and not down, but I think it still got the job done. There were multiple deep cuts to the same small area on the wrist. I could go cut my wrist right now. That seems like a shitty way to go, though. Plus I’d leave a huge mess for my landlord and I don’t want that so I’ll just stick to some of my other ideas and not do it now but I just want to die. I want to go away. I want to not have to worry about any of this. This is my selfishness. This is me escaping the horribleness of the world. I want to go away. I want to be at peace. Why can’t I have my assisted suicide pilll to quietly excuse me from the world. I’d love that. I’ll do something close to that.

I don’t want to hurt anyone on my way out (I don’t think anyway). I just want to go about my business and go out quietly, away from the world. Away from it all. I want to be at peace. Alone. Dead. Fucking dead.

More to come… for a while anyways…