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Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence, no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or terribly thin line near the […]

Everything makes sense when I’m severely depressed.

Why, what I need to do makes sense.

And I don’t want to be here because there’s something very wrong with me.

We can have valid reasons to want to die; hope wishes the opposite.

Nothing is what it seems

Sometimes I want to be told everything won’t be okay. It won’t work itself out.

I tell people stuff to hopefully change their thinking but it is nothing I haven’t told myself. I wake up most days with the same apathy to everything as everyone. What’s the point. Everything is shit.

What does get me going at times is when I start making little steps toward the future. For example, I change the oil in my car to prolong its life. Pretty soon I have to justify that investment by being more productive with my life.

I think it’s the little steps that count. Then again, I am slightly inebriated and the alcohol is doing most of the talking. .err typing.

I’m missing something..

An affectionate friend relieves it momentarily

Achievements feel great until the end of the day

Those are the good days

Other times I want to finish off what’s left of me

And there isn’t much..