I am at the stage where after years & years & years of preparation I am ready to commit.. now it just feels like I don’t want to rush it.. like maybe there’s something I will enjoy so much that can lead me out of the world on a beautiful page or maybe an intellectual page..
I try to structure my life around this last day, yet I am always bending to someone else’s sadistic desires with goals of what exactly? To leave me miserable?
I guess this is strange for me because I feel so unhappy.. I should be “in a fuzz” about it. I’ve always thought maybe I’d like to go out while high on drugs because that makes things feel more beautiful than they are, and it makes you more capable of taking risks (if it’s a worthwhile risk than that is good, right?) but while waiting for that opportunity, the time just drags on and on. I guess drug use was pretty much a part of my identity, a part of my identity that is currently denied. Because we don’t see eye to eye, but how on earth would I prefer to see from a viewpoint I don’t agree with?
I am an experienced recreational drug user because I have been planning this day for some time. I guess the drugs do the trick to fill the void. If you don’t take scheduled drugs, you couldn’t believe how wholesomely they fill the void. Ready or not, the void is here, and most of my thoughts seem to be: “Is this feeling of solemnity only curable by illegal controlled substance consumption?”
It’s a contemptible waste of time. The soul has left the room, the spirits are diseased. How can they waste this one precious life so effectively? Not only am I laid to waste. Nothing interests me anymore. I used to enjoy expanding and testing my intellect, seeing how many scholarly novels I could read in a month and that would make me satisfied. I used to envision giant projects and feel apt at ease to complete them. Now I realize it really doesn’t matter because it’s all wrong, any way you have it, this life will always be wrong.
As I attempt to fill the shoes of someone I am not and snuff out the person I am. I can’t find her, I don’t know what they did to her. Well, I know what they did to her but I can’t accept that and try to block it out. (Starts with M – continues with URDE – ends with R) Maybe I should just forget her? Now I wait here grave as can be. In order to kill myself, I’d need the mood to be right, of course. Ohhhh, how wrong the mood can feel. With such detached interests and no place to call home, the mood becomes worse.
“If you could only feel how I feel!” The little people scream at me. “Why can’t you enjoy what I enjoy?!” They patronize. “Life is beautiful and there is pleasure to find in the simplest of things and pleasure is my favorite!!” The little people win every time.
I could wait around here forever and I’d still probably never get the mood right. A small town and the strangers grow uglier through the years. The weather is cold. I can’t drive and I don’t have a nice car. I don’t need a nice car to commit but being able to drive kind of makes or breaks the suicide. It can be an ugly death or a beautiful death. I don’t want to die an ugly death. Do I have a choice? Money doesn’t matter to me, but they are demanding it. Do they think I sh*t gold coins? I’ve never had anything of value. I sit on the toilet for 50 hours a week pushing as hard as I can hoping that gold nuggets will come out. I need my drugs. I don’t need you and I don’t need gold nuggets, but I need my drugs and I need to get the hell out of here.
Anyway the reason I come here is to ask, how are you coping, how do you imagine spending your last day were you to commit? I mean I could die right now without a second thought, but you’d think there must be a beautiful day beforehand? I can’t find a beautiful day and I can’t force one either. Hard to have a beautiful day when trapped in a basement.