Fuck this world and all of it’s nasty little inhabitants.

I am drained. I’m tired and exhausted of living in a body and in a world which I don’t care for, nor belong in. I have never really felt comfortable here, never felt a belonging that wasn’t as disingenuous as it was ephemeral, the only meaning, or purpose I have experienced, has been under substances, or even worse, from the euphoria of a biochemical imbalance. The only exception, the truly comfortable place, is this place in my head that I’ve known for quite some time; I would leave by my own hand. I hate myself and all of myself. All of the bits.

 

Although I have been able to finger moments of joy with the life, they do not outweigh the periods of darkness, which have been far too vast for 8 years. Even if I could live with content, or honestly be stable for more than 5 minutes, I don’t like acting happy. It’s fake, it’s a lie, a shiny veneer for the rotten world I was born into.

I much prefer the ride, the flux; the shift between emptiness and intense emotional suffering. The darkness I visit sheds light on the places the normative cannot. The emotional suffering is dichotomously experienced through both elation and sadness of manic depression. The pain is joyfully ridden in two of three states, either in the form of low or high. Euphoria is amazing, but painful, and not nearly as rewarding as the drop into depression. The third is this emptiness that carries a well crafted endearing composition, a soft smile, dry sarcasm and a technical response most of you recognize; it is this scary void that interacts best with this place. Everyone hates it when the mask is off. My life is more pain than not, and I’m tired of thinking I will ever be stable for long enough to have an everlasting relationship, it’s not fair to keep sucking people in and destroying them.

For those of you who weren’t born with manic depression, or suffered extreme trauma to put you in a cyclically horrendous and unstable state, imagine having your brain release incendiary neurochemicals into an emotional nervous system, if such a thing could exist or be imagined; it’s felt in the entire body and in the emotional core, an inarticulable hurt. Now, add the understanding of the subjective reality that is experience, this might be mildly close.

 

I want to come unhinged every day. It is so much work keeping it together. I’m fucking tired and I don’t want any more coping tools from therapy, drugs, friends, partner, a dog, and not another project. I want to sleep forever.

 

Although I have never been dismembered, I can’t say for sure but I believe I might give that a try over this pain. Sometimes it staves off for two months, or sometimes it lasts an entire month, or 9. I really don’t know. I do know that I can say the pain is so terrible that I somehow find the absolute most joy in it; and very very few can understand this sentiment. Pain is pleasure, but still agonizing, something is crossed.

So yeah no. This decision has been well thought out and determined from all states of being that I might experience, and this horrid fucking planet and every piece of shit that walks this surface isn’t worth it. It’s not worth the time, the energy, and I am not worth the resources it has to offer. I refuse to give this existence another tear, another shred of my sensitivities, or any of my suffering. But you can have the blood and body.

What is it that is so intoxicating about blood? The slipperiness on the pads of ones fingers, the rich color, the coppery smell. I never understood why, but the slowed deep breathing as a result of the wash of endorphins at the sight and touch of my crimson is an always un-toppable high.

 

So of course, the best one of all will be the last.   

 

You can have this god damned dys-fucking-functional body; the state I leave it behind in is what I think of my existence.

What a weak existence it has been too, given some of the skillsets this body originally inherited. I was a smart child, and well rounded. Math, puzzles, electronics, interpersonal skills and science were solid at a young age. Fair looks and a sorta’ athletic build developed in the early 20’s. I could have been a fucking astrophysicist, an intelligence agent, an engineer or a successful MD. And now my secondary goals are to finish a novel, or own a bar, or even grasp RF concepts and I have no shot at any of those, I don’t have the capacities.

My focus was always skewed by romantic stupidity instead of something worth a shit. You can ask my father what I tried to talk about while riding in the car as an adolescent. I wanted to talk about girls. And that about sums up the final blow to my incompatibility with this realm of emotional detritus.

I’m sensitive, and I like having one person of the opposite sex to be close with in my life. I’ve always needed an emotional core, and maybe my biggest mistake was shopping for an all in one. All I have ever truly wanted was to find my best friend, partner in crime and lover to spend my days with. I didn’t realize until I was pseudo-stable how badly I wanted children, I questioned it in the marriage because I am small and was sick. But I will never the family I want, because my counterpart does not exist. It would be all too cruel for another person to exist that is compatible with me entirely, what a horrible chunk of insanity they would have to be, and I obviously shouldnt breed or be a role model in another’s life.

For a long time I believed that the only person that would ever come close to being someone I could love, like really love, on both a clinical and metaphysical definition, not this teenage elation that I sometimes experience, is (name omitted). The most wonderful woman I had ever known, and my college summer with her is the most visceral of all these experiences I hold, nothing can top my time with that unicorn. I should have kept my shit together and married her and not the safety.

But I couldn’t, my other side was far too seductive.

Aside from all the standard qualities you could expect from the girl of your dreams; drop dead gorgeous, similar interests, artistic, euphoric sex, brilliant, adventurous, mentally ill like me, awesome family and on and on. When I was with her, I felt the us. I used to describe her as having a soft personality because of her reserved demeanor and gentle voice, but it’s more like I felt part of myself melting or resonating with her. Hard to describe, the best of things are inarticulable anyways. But we saw each other when we looked in each others eyes.  

Alas, feelings such as that are overwhelming and I was far too dumb and distractible to see what I had. So I went to InsaneVille, and (name omitted) saw the dark part, like the deeply dark parts, I showed her the things I shouldn’t. It wasn’t me necessarily that she saw, but the places I like to frequent. Naturally, it scared the shit out of her and she got a restraining order. If I had only told her how I felt instead of what I thought, maybe things would be different. I burned that bridge because that’s what I do best. (Benches are a good substitute in a pinch though)

She saw me much in the same way that (name omitted) saw me, or maybe it was just the reflection I saw when I was with (name omitted), but very few that I look in the eyes hold this understanding. It’s also why (name omitted) is reading this letter. There’s something inside that is recognized, and I don’t know what it is, I know it’s dark, but you know what the fuck I am talking about. Maybe we have undergone the same level of affliction or something?

I know myself and I hate myself. I can’t help but torment, manipulate, play games. I love pain, it’s the only genuine thing that I can experience and I like to draw it out of others, slowly, over time and at great stakes. Rug pulling is my specialty. I am the biggest piece of shit I know.

(name omitted) harmed herself because I toyed with her instability, I couldn’t help it, I just kept pushing, the buttons were so visible, reachable, and sickly rewarding. It’s such a curious thing to watch someone else hurt that bad.

(name omitted)  made an excellent Pear of Anguish.

And then there’s the lovely (name omitted), seeming for a while the best partner to come into my life. Everything I valued about (name omitted) except more beautiful and better equipped to be with me, and I actually am good for her, we have both grown so much together in the last 6 months. But it’s not enough. I still want to die more.

 

This will be my third shift into the deep darkness; I am a lemon. It is best I if I am removed from use, my body given back to the soil and the experiences recorded so that others can build upon them and avoid this path.

 

Madness is the ultimate seductress, and I am not strong enough to stay away from her touch for long, no matter how severe the repercussions of my actions become, I am an addict and I will never walk away from the life of the horrible or keep the things that make the joke that is life worth doing everyday.

This is best, albeit painful for some of you, yes. But fuck off, it’s not fair for me to stick around merely because of the pain my departure would cause you. Besides, I also have OCD and have violent intrusive thoughts about others around me. I have most likely thought about how loud you would scream if I pulled your MCL apart with my favorite pliers, or how much blood would squirt out of your jugular upon first laceration. Even though I have never done anything violent to another individual. Do you really want me here?

Now we are nearing the end of the letter, and I obviously have some serious contention for humanity, but I want to stress the biggest fuck you of all. My parents. Not for just bringing me here, but the worst part is that you have made me stay this long. I have felt guilty about wanting to leave because you both have pressed how much you want me here, and it wouldn’t be fair to you if I left.

Well, fuck you.

I have to suffer every day because it’s not fair to you if I remove myself from your lives? This is my choice now, and any parental good you have done over the years gets washed away because of the guilt you have placed over my head by coercing me to stay in a harrowing situation because the loss you would experience. Selfish assholes.

 

I do have a single apology. To (name omitted), whom I still consider my wife. It’s been several years now but you will forever be my wife and my single deepest love. I do feel I was more intellectually compatible with others in my life, but it’s simply not possible to share anything as deep with another person. You and the dog were the closest thing to a family I will ever be able to hold together. I love you. Just like pain and pleasure are interchangeable for me, so is love and hate. I was cruel and abusive during our time together and I was an asshole about the dog this last year because although I wanted to let you go and honor my word, he was a child to me and I felt I had lost enough of what I loved. But I understand that it’s necessary for him to be with you and it’s my time to go. You are good to him, and you will be a good mother.

I want kids, he has shown me that. I want a family. Because of this last relapse I know today that even if I get stable enough to reel someone in and create the sense of belonging I want so bad, I will slip, Ill teter off the path and destroy more lives because I am toxic and because it’s all too fun to burn the things I build.

This is the last piece of self-torture I will not stand. I am not able to have a family because no therapy, drug or methodology can keep me stable, and it’s now my single greatest drive.  

 

I am born into a life sentence of because of a physiognomical defect. Although this soul must deserve the incarceration, I am unwilling to carry out the term, and very much look forward to not having to wake up again. Goodbye, fuck you and all of you.

 

Liberation is a gulp of pills, a flick of the wrist, and a squeeze of this trigger away.