This was the best thing that I've
written today.
That sentence that you just read above.
I would doubt that it was the best
sentence that you've read today.
I don't know. I don't know anythjing
about your day. I don't know what was good and what was bad, what
worked and what didn't maybe just possiblt that what little that I
did maybe helpe a little bit even if it was nothing
because...remeber...I havent really written anything yet.
I havent gotten aropund to telling you
about glacier-like progression of my depresseion and the regression
of I dont even know what to say
I know that its hard to get out of bed
but that its hard to keep my heart inside of my body because it needs
more blodd pumping through it. My heart needs more hearts too. Ive
proven that its a loving thing but it also wants to eat your hearts
brains
you, know – I can talk about work and
how it's killing me slowly and that maybe my work is like cancer but
then when I start typing that I feel like a horrible human being when
I have opeople that I know that have dided of cance and a friend even
now going through chemo. So im a dick. A worthless, uncaring,
selfidsh dick. So. I don't know what to write about. I know that my
body is slowly failing me and that I drink too much and smoke too
much and that I was very proud of myself for quitting both of thoase
things recently. But then, I got treated to dinner at a fancy
restaurant and really didnt give a fuck. Anf thats my problem. I care
too much but dont gve a fuck. But im getting old now. I give a fuck.
I really do.
I dfont know whats going to happen to
me and I dont know where im going to end up but im scared about being
here, doing the same things. Making the same relationship mistakes
and just being here birng here bieng here. It hasnt worked before and
its not going to continue to not work It's just going to stop. STOP.
Anf that'll be it. I've almost died
before. TWICE. That sucked. And I was supposed to be stronger after
it. I wqas and then I got stupid again. My body and my will is
failing. Dwindling, I should say.
What do I want? What do I want to
become. Not this. Not sl;owly dying on the vine while drinking it's
wine. I'm 40 years old now. I've been writing my whole life. I like
it sometimes and sometimes I reqally hate it. What I want is to live
the last half of my life and to feel allright about it.
It's time to wake up. Or just slowly
die. That's how cut and dried it is. TRUST ME. THRUST ME.
I'm weak, but hopeful. And, now music
is playing that was super emo for me back when I was 20. This fucking
song...I was so heartbroken, so in love...really....
I hope you're well.
I apologize for ranting, but thank you
for reading the rant that you just read.
It was the best thing that ive written
today.
