Drugged up Lemon

So. Here you are. Reading a note from some strange Internet lemon about how they’re gonna kill themselves.

Well. I guess it all started when I was a baby lemon. I was raised by a robot mother. I went to school- hmm? …. what’s a …fah-thur? Anyway. At about 9 I had my first existential break down and tried to hang myself. The pole broke (silly lemon) and hit me in the head and mom came home and didn’t suspect a thing and I didn’t reattempt because she was home. I’ve been cutting since then as a secret solution. A self cutting lemon. Bitter and bleeding.

I’ve been a little emo lemon for 13 years since then trying everything to be happy and riding out this Rollercoaster.

I am admired and loved. I have options. I’m skillful and intelligent. I even think im not ugly. But. I have always wanted to die. I started to think it was a Chem imbalance and it was reaffirmed by a doctor who told me it was also causing my acne and depression. But I didn’t take anything. Pills are whack, yo. But…

I drop acid. I smoke pot. Shrooms…. you know. Hippie shit. Aren’t hippies like the happiest smelliest people on the planet?

Drugged up as I usually am and even among friends laughing and joking I wish I where dead

Every.

Waking moment.

Even when it’s going great and I find a reason to keep going it always returns this feeling that it’s all hopeless. Right before you open your eyes and right before I get up I hear it clear in my head.

“I wish I where dead…why did you get up?”

Dreams. Lucid and beautiful and crazy elaborate. Why can’t I sleep forever.

AAANYWAY. Fast forward to tonight.

I’ve been planning my suicide for a bit now. I always felt I would go before 23 via car crash. Call it an inkling. Banana Boyfriend is a man child with a big heart who’s trying in some ways and lacking in others. He doesn’t know how to help me as he is a normal fruit and doesn’t think of suicide. We broke up. Saw other peeps. I came back. It’s been a few months now (4 years the first time) and we’ve been fighting because of insecurity in both of us. Nothing has changed in my death wish since I was 9. I’m planning before april. But today I got to cutting after our discussion didn’t end with resolutions and just more excuses. It’s like 10 degrees outside and with out my glasses or phone i “go for a walk” to cool off. I was ready. Happy even. I kinda wanted to clear my comp, burn all my sketchbooks and phone, donate clothes etc but I mean… what will I care when I’m dead.

I leave behind a sister lemon. Young and military driven. Silly girl. I love you so. Changed your diapers and helped raise her. So smart so silly. She’s a little robot too. She never hugs me anymore after I left to a different state and never came back. She harbors resentment towards me. But this doesn’t change my love for my sweet little sad lemon. I know you are lonely. I know you are scared. This is going to suck. ATTENTION. Be strong military munchkin. I love you.

I leave behind mummy lemon and distant. A beautiful business woman. Inside her a pool of love hard to reach. She has her reasons. She’s one of mine. I love her and admire her. And hope she can pull through this time. I fear she will not as her boyfriend died and her life is hard now and she has expressed her will to die as well. But this doesn’t change my love for her and as a person I sympathies and as a daughter I wish I had been better

I leave behind a pet lemon. The long bodied short legged waggly type. He will never understand why he’ll never see his mommy again but he’ll be well cared for. And this doesn’t change that I love him with all my heart.

I leave behind Banana boyfriend…… sigh. So much to say. I love you. Always have always will you beautiful vibrant soul. Would have loved to make bitter but aPEALing baby fruit with you. You where the reason I lasted so long. And you’ve done more for me than a lot of people. Even tho no one approved. Even tho it was said time and again that we shouldn’t. We did. And I don’t regret any of it. We were crazy. This will be hard. I know your best friend died so long ago but I know you still hurt. I’ll tell him all about you now. But I’m sure he already knows. I love you. See you in the next life.

It’s cold. Outside and inside.

Emilie autumn knows her shit man. “The art of suicide” is the shit.

For all you other fruit out there thinking of making a fruit salad of yourself: please. Run away. Start a new life before you hit that power button. There was that one guy who went to Mexico to party one last time before he killed himself and partied up with hookers doing drugs and shit and he decided against suicide in the end.

I will. Because it’s coded into me. I’ve lost my marbles in the midnight tall grass long ago.

Should I chicken out I’ll come back to explain the shit I hate to talk about. If I don’t chicken out them I can finally bury myself with my demons.

And if I chicken out for good like everyone wants. If I continue to live my life for others, trapped in this hellish never ending internal invisible nightmare… then there will be a few more poems and drawings, a few lifeless breaths and meaningless days. Maybe I could share them with you Internet fruit. Maybe.

Who knows what will happen between here and the bridge.

You know what they say…

1. When life hands you lemons you make lemonade.