eat me henger

somehow i've fallen off the wagon once again. i used to have my life together. i had good habits. but somehow life's demands piled up more than i could handle and now i'm just constantly ticking off someone else's to-do list and neglecting mine. dying now sounds like a swell idea. it doesn't make any meaningful difference. whoever i am in the eyes of others isn't truly me. friends and family will mourn the death of the person in the casket or urn, but i don't feel any connection with him. granted, i'm responsible for building that person. it's my actions that resulted in everyone else's perceptions. in a sense, choosing to die is such a cheap escape. i'm eluding responsibility. a fitting end for a piece of shit like me.

the most feasible is jumping off a building, skull first into the ground. but where? my office building is a six storey opportunity to be six feet underground. but then again, my corpse will be too dilapidated to be coffin-worthy. but hey, it’s not gonna be my problem anymore. other than that, i don’t seem to have any access to any roofdecks. i could just never let go of a floored gas pedal. although that’s too much collateral damage for a simple goal. but hey, not gonna be my problem anymore. i don’t want to slice the veins off my forearms. i hate sharp objects on my skin. i dreaded the vaccine. man, i wish i was one of lucky few to have needed ventilators. there’s a half empty bottle of sleeping pills on my desk. i’ll keep that on the list. i’m a pussy anyway. a gun would’ve been quick and easy. but getting a license for one will take a long and hard time. i need trusses for a noose. we have our unfinished attic that never got a ceiling. that’s feasible. or i could just let my excuse...

it's my fault for fooling people into thinking i'm good. i resent every single person that believed in me. they're the reason i keep failing because they define the standard that show my shortcomings. it's unfortunate how people who regard me positively are actually those that don't see me genuinely. i feel bad that they are happy for things that actually cause me misery. at this point, i much prefer the company of my doubters because they see me for what i actually am: a fraud that does an excellent job of counterfeiting quality. at least, i don't have to disappoint them. i just have to prove them right - as how the natural state of things would have done. this has been a much worse existential crisis than having a lover cheat on me with a bastard that she's trying to pass off as mine. at least that was a unanimous injustice that everyone got behind. my desire for death has been at its strongest recently. i fake every smile, laughter or cordial interaction....