Reflection from June 12th, 2013 @ Age 31


I feel like I want to kill myself.  I have no home, I have to be drugged to fit into society, my father’s an asshole who does not support me, my boss is an asshole who, as a “businessman”, of course, only gives a shit about himself.  I tried to explain to him why I wanted to take next week off work, the week of my birthday, not even to go anywhere or do anything because I have no money.  Just to fucking get my head together and back focused and he’s all, “well ohhhhhh, okay then, well that’s what I need you to do too then.  To get your focus back.”  As if I didn’t just handle my first hearing and win no doubt.  As if I mean nothing.  As in emotionally abusive asshole, just one more in my life.  I need to escape myself, but I cannot unless I kill it.  Myself that is, until I kill this body of mine.  My soul will go on, and that’s the important part.  And then I can walk in gardens all misty wet with rain with David.  Except he might not even be there either.  Maybe it would just be blackness and wholly death.  I don’t know.  But I’m not sure how it could be any worse than here.  T—about 14 minutes till the Xanax and Adderall XR kick in.  I hope it gives me some good energy to do something productive that will make me feel happy.  Because, as far as happiness goes, I am not it.  Not at this moment in any case.