| Noose... |
I thought about it today. Just a minute ago in fact. I haven't thought about that in a long time. I didn't really remember what it felt like. I like it though. I like the comfort it brings. I like to know that if everything goes wrong, there is always the backup plan.
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I was driving. No one was around. The lights were out, save but a few of the street lamps. I could have just gone and gone and gone, as fast as my little fucking Festiva would go. Just to jerk the wheel a little, and no more...
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No more...
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Alone no more...
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Empty no more...
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Guilty no more...
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Nothing...
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Nothing at all...
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Is it worth it? I don't really know anymore, but I guess I still lean towards a negative because I didn't do it...
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Besides, I have to go to work tomorrow...
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And that is just it..
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I realize that people's lives are so pointless that we have to fill them with random, material, superficial, temporary bullshit that we call our lives. I don't want it that way. I don't need it.
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I had a conversation with myself at work today. Out loud, again. My boss caught me. I didn't notice I was doing it, but he told me I needed help. I just laughed. Not because what he said was funny, but it was quite an understatement. I laughed at its inadequacy...
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So, Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, all of those old Greek dead men agree that a thing is at its highest potential when it is being used for what it was intended, bringing about true happiness. I thought of this today. What about leather? My work gloves are leather. Is that what the leather was intended for? To protect my hands from tiny slivers of wood? Or was it the purpose of that leather to remain the skin of the deer it was torn from? Was its purpose to protect my hands or the deer's body? And a body is only a vessel for a mind, a tool even. The body is the instrument in which the mind manipulates the world around it. So, I wondered, was the purpose of my gloves altered, or was it no longer being achieved? I came to the conclusion that a purpose can change. Purpose is relative to circumstance. Ironic, because American justice is not. Providing happiness, obviously, isn't really what America hopes to accomplish. Just order, just like everyone else. Big pigs on top and swine on the bottom. I am beginning to hate a lot about this place, and I am really starting to wonder how much thought is actually in the animal brain...
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On a lighter note, she would rather watch a movie than talk to me. I guess that is just how important I have become over these last couple of years...
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Maybe I should have just floored the pedal and taken the Festiva for one last joyride...
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Maybe...
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Maybe I shouldn't be such a whiny little fuck...
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Maybe I need to get some sleep...
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Also, I don't feel well. Everything is going horribly wrong, but this time is different. I think I am about to reach a focal point, or an inflection point, or some sort of point that I can't quite describe. Maybe I am at the Event Horizon...
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Everything...
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This isn't some sort of downward spiral. This isn't things falling apart. This is a dead drop and a shattered glass reality. This is the end of something, I just hope there is a new beginning out there somewhere. I really need a fresh start. I need to get away. I need to get my head above water and I really need to get over myself. But I guess it was my vanity that got me here to begin with. My sloth is giving me the time I need to feel my endless greed. My lust is only for the wrath I revel in. My envy is directed toward everyone and no one at the same time. I want it all but I don't want you to give it to me. I guess you could say I am a glutton for gradually succeeding.
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Too bad I haven't even started this addiction.
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I seem to be good at that though. Addiction, that is...
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I don't think there is anything I do that I couldn't become addicted to...
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I could use a dirty fuck right now.
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I don't see my wishes coming true anytime soon...
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I don't want to be here anymore...
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I want you to forget I am here. I want you to forget I ever was here. I want you to forget that you ever knew I was there or here or where ever the fuck I was. I want you to forget me so I don't feel obligated to keep remembering you. I don't need this. I don't want it and I don't need it and I can't have it and I want it all...
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To go the fuck away...
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I need out...
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Dear Diary,
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Today, suicide seemed like a decent alternative...