It’s just my stubbornness that stops me because I so desperately want off this ride. Off this planet, out of this place that makes no sense to me. I think I drank away too many of my brain cells…sobriety has landed me in a permanent state of irritation. I don’t even like what I used to like anymore. The only constants that remain are sex, art and music. Men have drained all of the fun out of the first one and I would try women but what a fucking nightmare that would be. No, none of that. None of anything. None of anyone- everyone leave me the fuck alone. It annoys me to think about how easy it would be to just tip myself over my 34th floor balcony onto concrete, splat- done. Over. What if I just ended up in an eternal waiting room waiting for my turn to be judged. OMG the agony of my impatience would make me want to die all over again which would only enrage me further. The rage is almost leaking out of my pores lately. I get SO upset over the smallest things because things that should be easy are always somehow overcomplicated by the most dimwitted pieces of shit in existence. Not that I’m a fucking genius anymore…I used to be much smarter. But now I’m older and life is harder. The crazy part is that my life isn’t even hard in comparison to most, I’m just impossible to please and insatiable in my thirst for this or that fleeting feeling of extasy that is always so short I almost wish I never had it.
I don’t think I even want anything anymore. From anyone, I’d love to curl into a small place no one knows about and just squat there forever. Until God finally allows me to die because he’s finally given up on me. Everyone gives up on me eventually- I’m fine with that though because they almost always lose my attention first. I try to keep to myself because I’m so tired of being cordial to people (purely out of principle). Me and my fucking principles, I could choke on the dick of my indignant self-righteousness but has that made me a better person? Not really, so what is that even for. I just got finished telling my sister about how badly I want to just go on a killing spree until I’m stopped and put away forever. I can’t do that either though….I don’t fucking listen and I can’t imagine that going over well with anyone if I ended up incarcerated. I don’t even want to smile anymore. I want my face to just cement itself in a neutrally indifferent expression all the time- don’t worry, I’ll stay away from the kids. I can’t go splat though, it’s just too easy.
I need more blood. Something more loud and violent, I want to traumatize the persons that find my body. I thought about some vertical razor action but this isn’t fucking high school- those days are over. Plus I hate the stinging from blades and the panic that runs through my body thinking I pressed too hard or in this case devastatingly not deep enough. Just inconvenient all around, I don’t want the possibility of fixing that up with the gentle people in the hospitals that will try to stitch me together again while no one comes to make sure I’m ok. I hate that goddamn woman for bringing me into this shit hole. No slicing L, let’s be more deliberate than that. Why ruin a great tattoo with a bunch of blood that won’t even be seen properly, there wouldn’t be anywhere near enough contrast to be shockingly effective. It would be more fun to jump, I think. Splatting is a huge bloody mess and it definitely makes for a more exciting discovery plus I’d get to free fall. I could always shoot myself in the head but it would be my fucking luck that I somehow survive that too, forced to live out the rest of my miserable existence like a fucking retard. It would be kind of cool though. I would do my makeup so bomb beforehand so that all that needs to be cleaned up is like, the hair part where the hole is, ya know? No one can free-form winged eyeliner like I can.
I’m not even sad anymore, I’m just done. I’ve seen all I need to see, I’ve met way more people than I had even the slightest interest in meeting and I’ve been to more places than I had ever hoped to see. I don’t have anything left to take care of, I’m not interested in almost literally- anything. I used to be such a hard worker and then I burnt that part out of me…I used to believe that love was going to always make me feel something worth being alive for but it hasn’t really brought me much more than disappointment. Just a bunch of bullshit words from bullshit people that don’t understand anything about depth. It’s no one’s fault but my own though, I expect too much and have performed unearned gratuity for too little. I ask for what I give to be returned and what a silly goose I am for that one. We all just use each other; I hate it here. I can’t even love the way I’m capable of because I just know too much about human nature from my multitudes of unfortunate experiences. I don’t mean to sound whiny I just genuinely don’t understand people or the point of all this shit. Maybe I missed out because I never popped out any kids or whatever but it just would’ve been another person- what if they sucked. My mom sucked and I’m stuck here now desperately longing to not be alive. Fucking bitch, how could she do this to someone and then just dip. Women like that need to be sterilized because now I’m just here at my ripe age thinking about the suicide note I’ll never write. Maybe I should- just in case….No, once I do that I’ll feel compelled to act. That’s annoying too, I can’t even find peace in constructing my own demise. I could swallow a bottle of pills…speaking of violent deaths, I almost like that idea. I hate excrement though and I have a feeling that even if I chased it down with a bottle of vodka it would be agonizingly painful to my organs… sounds so miserable and gross. I don’t want to FEEL myself having life extracted from me, I’m already dealing with a milder form of that every day. Some days aren’t so bad. Maybe I’m just an impossibly difficult person and there is no making me happy. Maybe I don’t even deserve to be here. Maybe I crash my car into a brick wall doing 108 mph. That might be fun. Instant, but I don’t like the idea of maybe crashing into another car in the process.
Oh and what will they say!? It’s likely that no one will even fucking talk about it. I’m not much more than cleavage and sass with a side of cleverly timed remarks. I think some people might miss me a bit but who…. I don’t really talk to anybody. Not anymore. I think my death would be more like a, “damn what happened? Oh.”- kind of event. No one seems to actually appreciate my life with the exception of a few guys out there that will have to pick a new favorite to jerk off to. Such a substantial member of humankind, good for a quick nutt at the bare minimum. I really don’t think my death would cause a blip in anyone’s world. That’s almost okay with me to be honest…I do it to myself. What’s the point in getting close to anyone anymore, all they do is switch up and fuck you over once you see through their bullshit. I’m not even properly hot which is almost the most annoying part because, shut uppppppppp. You don’t even know what’s attractive. And that will be the end of me. Just a shell of an existence meant to serve everyone but myself I guess. Everyone is always mad at me for something and I don’t even be doin shit -which is crazy because I’d really like to be the villain some have painted me to be one day.
I want to break things and tear through stuff and set it all on fire and kick and scream and punch and stab and chop or suffocate someone. I really don’t care enough to though- even if I killed someone, I wouldn’t even bother to move the body. I’d just leave it there for someone else to deal with because I really just don’t give a fuck anymore. I’d love to castrate some pedos before I go but I’d rather cut off their arms because I think that would be way funnier. If a kid gets raped by a person with no arms that’s kind of on them. It’s not just them though, I hate everyone equally- including those fucking namaste people and those fruits with crystals in their pockets and shit. How the fuck am I supposed to keep living in this world as the fucking misanthrope that I’ve become? I can’t even focus on my hypothetical suicide because I’m distracted by how much I’m not even going to miss this place. My motivations have shriveled up into nothingness and my ambitions have only taken the darkest turns. I don’t care about any of the things that used to give my life meaning and now I’m just here waiting for it all to come to a screeching stop as the result of my own forced demise. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to get hit by another car or something, I hope I die drunk as fuck or high as a kite yelling “Fuck the World!” at the top of my lungs. I really hope God gives me something to be alive for.
