I hate you, and I hate being alive. I hate that you make me hate being alive. I hate everything about you. I hate how you make me feel. I hate that you are gone. I hate your smile. I hate your friends. I hate that I can not make you happy anymore. I hate your front of disinterest. I hate your reserved demeanor. I hate that I am not over you. I hate your happiness. I hate that I doubt that you are really happy but will never ask. I hate that it has been a month without speaking. I hate being weak. I hate you for making me feel weak. FUCK YOU.
This weather makes it hard to be happy…The snow falls and the smiles are masked in its blanket.
The wind blows and the laughter is carried away to no longer be heard.
The ice freezes over and with it so do the hearts and minds.
Currently: Reminiscing on all of my sorrows of 2016 with a robust sob.
Commemorating all of my spells of depression with the last few tears of the year.
Reflecting on the relatively dark year I emdured.
Pleading for a blissful 2017.
If I slit my wrists & swim in the blood, will my family finally feel as sad as I do when they find me?
Will they drown in their sorrows & choke on their words?
Every 12:12 a small part, & sometimes a very big part, of me always wishes to die.
I sat on the train tracks & cried & smoked a cigarette. The train was not coming, but I was sad I was even there.
I hate the train. I’m afraid of the train. I’m mad every time it comes. I wonder if I can make it in time to die. Then I wonder if I want to make it in time to die.
Really, I don’t hate the train because it can kill me. Or because I want to it kill me. (Do I?) I hate the train because it makes me question myself.
I take pride in my self awareness. Now a fucking mode of mass transportation has me questioning whether I’m ready to take the plunge or not.
I hope I dont live too long.
I feel as though I’ve been taken victim to a predator I cannot see. My predator is not one I can see. My predator is not one I can touch. My predator is not one I can hear. However, the predator sees, touches, and hears me. On the darkest days, he sings his nefarious tunes in my ears. He clouds my vision with insecurity. He turns my warm heart to stone. On some lighter days, he leaves me be. However, I never doubt that he will return for his prey.