eat me henger

the easy way out is to just disappear and not have to deal with people. wake up, get my own shit done, go back to bed. it's a loop i can die with. having other sentient beings complicate things. it takes so much out of me to afford them patience and understanding. self-preservation dictates i purge people from my life. i'm just so afraid of being hurt again. not that it's an unfounded fear. i still feel the pain when dealing with everyone's complications. i get that we all have personalities and we have to deal with both the good and bad. but i find the simpler and more limited the interaction, the less it hurts. when i go to a store, a cashier doesn't hurt me until they start being an actual person by showing a bit of character by being rude. when i enter a building, a security guard doesn't hurt me until they stop being invisible and interjecting a human interaction. when i open up my phone, friends don't hurt me until they start sending me messages. livin

this is my chance to openly recognize the darkness in me. there are things i can't say explicitly to the world because it's unacceptable to most people's ears. there's a certain close-mindedness to most people that i'm quite wary of. my insecurities and fragility are met with dismissive reassurance. it's the same thing i will tell others, but somehow what i know works for them doesn't work with me. my choices are either a seemingly ineffectual conversation or a seemingly effective rumination into nothingness. it all depends on the situation, i guess. at times like these when i feel useless, i don't want to bring my negativity to others. by my terms, i need to get my bearings straight first before i go out into the world again. momentum hasn't been on my side so far. i can't simply wait for it, i have to assert myself to one meaningful victory. i need this relegation. i'm losing my touch and i'm not being the person i want to be. i have to

i haven't felt this good in a long time. i had ten hours of sleep today. i hope it isn't the sleep, cause if i need almost half of my day spent unconscious to function well, then i have no business keeping up with the world that need less than half of my rest requirement. i've resigned to a short life. if i'm lucky, one morning, i simply won't get out of bed anymore. or maybe i will start shitting blood only to find out after an expensive diagnostic procedure that i have cancer up my butt hole. worst case scenario, i start to forget everything - names and faces of people, recipes of my favorite dishes, or even the simple act of breathing. my body's gone through an unreasonable amount of abuse. i have very little preventive or corrective health interventions. that's why i don't believe in a use for my pension or savings. they're just there because everyone else is doing it. but i know someday i won't reap their benefits. it's just a tax to be

i hate mornings. i can't remember a time i felt good waking up. there was always something hurting on my body. it doesn't matter whether i had a full night's rest or barely slept at all, my first feeling of the day is never good. getting out of bed marks the beginning of my existential dread. the whole concept of living feels like such an insurmountable challenge that it crushes my soul. i can barely keep myself together, so i sure as hell will find it difficult to bring myself to live up to certain aspirations. most of my wins have mostly been a matter of luckily stumbling my way into positive outcomes. i can't be lucky my entire life. that clearly is the case cause i carry the burden of many failures. i guess that's why i have a shit ton of aches all over my body. all the emotional stress are manifesting themselves as physical pain. that's why inebriation is such an attractive state for me. it dulls both the good and bad elements of my mind. if being less shar

for the most part, all of my suffering is done in silence. that's why i do get those who seem happy in photos and are found dead at their own hands. i empathize with them a whole lot. so much so that i will go as far as to lump myself with them. from the very beginning, i've always been callous about morbid matters. death as a conversation topic has never put me off. i'm quite open about my prediction of not making it to retirement age, or thinking that death is an appropriate punishment for my screw ups. i view the subject matter as objectively as possible. it has nothing to do with my depression. i can also be happy and think of wanting to die. i simply have a long-standing fixation about dying that it's just as constant of a thought as living. i'm afraid of the physical sensation of dying. i get frequent nightmares of someone out to kill me or being in a dangerous situation that will likely result in my death. i'm fine with the thought of me dying, but maybe

i hate seeing cool people that aren't my real friends. yeah sure, every once in a while i scroll through my facebook feed just to see how people think. then there's this one super cool facebook friend that isn't really my friend. and i hate that. it feels like a frustrating limbo in between acquaintance and celebrity. i don't want to start a conversation either. cause i know how i am with the opposite sex or non-binaries, especially with people that there's great potential to get along with. i don't like getting into those hairy situations again because i'm sure even if all i want is momentary company i'll be someone else's soulmate again. i have a new found respect for sexually promiscuous individuals. at least they know how to temper expectations and react accordingly. get in, get out, cut off. i like the "cut off" part, the getting in and out would have been fun if i had the inclination or talent to get into it. the problem with not bein

i wonder whether it's all a call for help. because if it were, then i'm doing a crappy job. maybe i am being dumb about it. maybe i'm just not popping the right pills. maybe i'm dismissive of those that sincerely want to help. maybe i really don't want this problem solved. maybe i want to be that piece of shit that everyone really don't want in their lives. because i don't want this for myself either. i sincerely wonder what kind of help will make things better. i'm doing most of the sensible solutions to help myself. doing something and doing nothing are equally hard processes, and i'm already choosing the path that leads to change. but nothing ever seems to be more than merely momentary change. there's very little to complain about and a lot of things to be grateful for. but somehow, i'm back in the same hole i strove to get out from. i sincerely don't know if i have done or continuing to do something wrong. i objectively know what'

the pain becomes more and more unbearable. thankfully, pretending doesn't get harder. it's like a pedal i put my foot on, i liven up, people are convinced i'm fine. doing so depends on a finite resource. i don't know how much i still have. but it doesn't matter. being positive is good for others. the world doesn't need another downer. people have their own problems, bothering with someone else's isn't the wisest decision. not that i would trust the world to know how to deal with me either. i'm barely dealing with myself. i don't want to be unfair. i don't want to be a burden. i don't want to take from others anymore. it was fun while it lasted. but i don't want it to end that way. i won't be brining my material belongings to the grave. it's only reasonable to empty myself out for the benefit of others around me. i'm running myself into destruction for the creation of a better tomorrow. i'm slaving away for everyone els

i may have already committed suicide. i certainly feel dead inside, i may already be in an afterlife. the disconnection is decidedly dissonant. i share my smiles and laughter, but i don't feel i'm actually expressing them. i receive kindness and recognition, but i don't feel i'm actually deserving of them. this footing is frighteningly familiar. how long have i been suffering through this? regardless whether i'm alive or not, what's the point. all the effort feels futile. i'm either fully living and slowly dying or i'm already dead and won't sink any further. if somehow i can still keep giving while feeling i have nothing, then what difference does it make if i kept on going.

there are times when i sincerely want to quit the world. life's great. i'm fully immersed and appreciative of its greatness. but what have i to lose? all of life's beauty is fleeting. it'll come and go. happiness is universal and timeless. the inherent joy felt by people that came centuries before me and those that will outlive me won't be any different than what i've gone through. the medium to deliver elation may be different, but it's still the same biological mechanism, it's still the same feeling. happiness is happiness. all of life's triumphs are temporary. whatever you build, no matter how structurally strong it may be isn't assured of permanence. nevertheless, the motivation to work towards its accomplishment and the fulfillment of its completion is just as valid of a feeling as any. and just like people that laid the foundation where we presently stand and those that will continue our legacy - it's still the same process. we're a