basefree

A fly buzzing around my head lands on my cheek. I stare at a white wall as it crawls along my face. Have you ever felt so empty it begins to be transcendental? I’m not really here, never have been.

Nothing I do feels authentic. I feel like all I do is perform. It’s a piss-poor performance that’s for sure. Far from art. I’m never my real self. I’m always uncomfortable and scared. An anxious phony. The pretender. Weakness in human form. Cowardice with a proper name.

How do you do something you know you need to do but are too afraid and anxious to do? How do I get that extra bit of courage to act?

An aspect of my persistent unhappiness is rooted in envy. This envy is rooted in self-hatred. How can I see the brave and as a coward not be envious? See the beautiful and as the ugly not envy it? How can I be happy with, settle for, come to terms with, all the desirable traits I lack? I try to accept what I can’t change and see the futility of this envy but it doesn’t go away. What I hate the most about this existence is I can only be myself. What a horrible truth.

It was 31 years ago today that a screaming entity entered the world unaware that their moldable plastic brain would turn into this thing writing this post on a website about ending one’s existence. Heh. I’ll try to smile today.

Richard Russell stealing the plane and doing a barrel roll with it then dying has really moved me recently. I’m obsessed with him at the moment. RIP Sky King.

The pattern seeking brain attempts to find meaning in the meaningless. I can’t help but feel that getting a text from an ex-dealer who went MIA (prison most likely) two years ago was a sign. Now I’ve been a weekend warrior every Friday this month. Clandestine meetings, cash swapping hands, coke, crystal, pills, booze, escorts, strippers, and maxing out credit cards. Pull yourself together for Monday. Running on nearly zero sleep. Can my co-workers tell? Doubt it. I stare at a screen in a cubicle all day regretting the three day party. This is how people too scared to pull the trigger kill themselves.

Everyday is a challenge when you hate the entity that created such an awful self. A self that hates itself! Why is this even a thing that can exist? A creature, a thing called a human, that can develop a self that wants to not exist while simultaneously having an atavistic survival instinct? This has to be hell.

Other people and their expectations ruin my day. I want to be surrounded by those with zero expectations of me. I am a flight not fight person. In any conflict or confrontation I immediately want to get away from the individual who is the source of the conflict. Getting away and being alone immediately makes me feel better. I think I am meant to be a loner.

Long story short: a year ago I fell in love with a girl who was married for 1 year after being in an 8 year relationship. She fell in love with me too. She got a divorce and we got together. Fast forward a year and we are always fighting. I don’t know if we are right and yet I feel guilty that she left everything for me and I constantly let her down and dissappoint her.

Possibly the most pernicious of emotions. To want, yearn, crave and to not only not be able to get the object of those feelings but for them to be so distant in their possibility of procurement.

I swear it’s not a sex thing. Ok, maybe it’s a sex thing. I hate that it’s a sex thing. I’m so pent up. I wish my mental health didn’t leave me a sad perverted man. I have these juvenile thoughts that are indicative of an untouched inexperienced loser. It’s a dangerous combination, to be an alienated celibate man yearning, frothing.

Addendum: I know this is wrong, but does anyone else consider those who speak of boyfriends and girlfriends, husbands and wives, children…to be less…it’s not a competition, I know this. Depression, anxiety, it affects all, but part of me…you found someone, you get touched…nevermind.

Though it had been a couple months since he saw the home video, it still bothered him. He knew what he was like as a child, but to see it visually reflected back at him made it feel more real and affirmed beliefs he had about himself. Though, maybe he opportunistically used it as a means of affirmation of his already held negative beliefs about himself – he often considered this possibility. The possibility that he’d always been seeking evidence to allow him to wallow rather than seeking evidence to contradict his held beliefs to free of him from wallowing. Did he secretly love wallowing […]

I want to be clear that this isn’t a suicide note unless the means (and I hope this is not the case) of death was suicide. However, this is meant to be read after my death. A relatively incoherent posthumous statement that amounts mostly to why you shouldn’t mourn my passing. The reason being that I never really enjoyed who I was.

Now, I want to be clear, I was not in a perpetual state of unhappiness nor would I say that I was often unhappy. I was relatively blessed and enjoyed the comfort of modern life surrounded with great friends and siblings. What it […]

I didn’t go to work for a month
I didn’t leave my bed for eight days straight
I haven’t hung out with anyone
Because if I did, I’d have nothing to say

I didn’t feel angry or depressed
I didn’t feel anything at all
I didn’t want to go to bed
And I didn’t want to stay up late
When you’re living your life, well, that’s the price you pay