July 17, 2007
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I honestly don’t fucking know how anyone can stand to live in this fucked up world. I’ll tell you why I do it, though, why I keep insisting on wasting oxygen – it’s because I’m a coward. If there’s one thing I’ve developed an obsessive fear about, it’s trying to kill myself…. and failing. I mean, that would be the utmost in pain, wouldn’t it? Waking up in the hospital with half your face blown off?
How would you explain that without admitting that you tried – and FAILED – to commit suicide?
Sometimes, I feel like installing a zipper in my skin so I can peel if off and pretend to be someone else.
Because there are many things I miss and how I am now… this body, this life – it’s not right to want these things and still be who I am right now.
I miss going to the farmer’s market and digging my fingers into the sacks of pinto beans when no one is looking.
I miss lining up for movies on opening night, buying the largest size popcorn and the super mega coke and finishing half of it before the movie starts, then having to pee real bad but not wanting to leave in the middle of the show.
I miss wearing high heels and skirts with long fringed hems that tickle my calves as I dance.
I miss winters – winters that are full of Christmas anticipation, snow, and vacation plans.
I’ll even admit that I miss TV every once in a while – I miss hearing about upcoming solar eclipses or the birth of a new star, an invention that will raise humanity to new self-awareness, or for God’s sake, even the dates of the local carnival and avocado festival.
I miss the nights when I wouldn’t smell booze on Beau’s breath…….
And sometimes I wish he would get so drunk that he rapes me, just so I could feel something….
…. anything…..
Comments (5)
I dig into the tubs of pinto beans even when everyone is looking.
Thats a good list of things, It made me smile while I was reading it. Like I was nodding my head on the inside and agreeing with you with every passing line I read.
Except for the high heels, I never felt that kind of tickle. And also the last few that seemed personal.
we are programmed for survival. our teen years- all the fake suicides. adulthood- preoccupation but fleeting glimpses of enlightenment. it’s the twilight years i fear. our society neglects the elderly. i can tolerate the insanity beauty chorus. the electric madman shivers. the rubberneck mock horror. we never admit to being as strung out on the madness as we are the glory.
i don’t want to grow old. and tired. fighting the same demons…
I tried….
I failed….
I eventually became grateful. It happened long after I had recovered the ability to walk and read. It happened one cool spring night when the rain began and for the first time in years I could smell it. And that scent brought me into something resembling gratitude. And that gratitude allowed me to keep sucking air long enough to be ok with my failure.
see, Ghandi said he could not believe the youth when the screamed ‘suicide’
thought it was a joke
it was better not to take them seriously…
ya, well, FUCK GHANDI….(ya I said it)
then there are those that claim that it is selfish…
well what about this world that they insist that we live in….
fuck them….
(whispers) there is another way…
there is something we can do about it…
let’s take this world back…it’s not there’s
(remember)
what it is like when someone touches your hand for the first time….the slightest graze gets your entire attention…
life doesn’t find meaning, it simply disappears…everything but that hand…touching yours
it’s like that…life doesn’t find meaning….it will just disappear…and there you stand, alive (I know, crazy)
Im sorry, I don’t know you personally or what you’ve been through but you seem very upset with your life at the moment. Are we okay?? I was in such a good mood today until I read your entry…its so sad! LOL