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Once More Around The Sun

Today is my birthday.

When I was a little girl, I never dreamed I’d live past being 10. Then it got pushed up to 20. Then 30. Granted, while I’m only turning 28, I’ve learned a few things. The first is to stop counting upwards using only increments of 10’s, and secondly that for as long as I can put off ending my life, I might just make it further in life. I’m not happy, don’t mistake what I’m saying for growth, cause it’s not, but what I am saying is that for some people, existence isn’t a struggle. They enjoy being alive, at least on a base human level, enjoy seeing friends, having their families, getting jobs, having relationships, etc. But for others, it’s a struggle, and for me it’s an absolute slog. So, other people go through life, sometimes having a midlife crisis or so along the way, until they finally reach their 80s and die. Meanwhile, I’m actively bored of existing, yet because there’s such a stigma surrounding suicide, shaming people who simply don’t want to hurt anymore, and also because I’m always constantly in the middle of something (a movie, laundry, writing this blog post you’re reading), I keep having to put off killing myself.

Now, people may take that and go “Well, that indecision means you really don’t want to do it then!” and while I respect everyones right to their opinion, no, they’re wrong and they should shut up. Did they make this diagnosis from the comfort of their bedroom doctors desk chair? You don’t know me, or what I’ve been through or how I feel. I WANT to die. I do. I just keep having shit come up that has to be taken care of, and I’m not one to flake on responsibilities and abandon projects. In essence, my perfectionism is extending my life sentence, and yes I say life sentence and not life span, because much like prison, I didn’t ask to be here and I certainly want it to be over with. Now, I’ve written a blog post in the past about how if you can come up with things to do like “I can’t kill myself until this tv show is over” or “I can’t end my life until I feed my dog” then you can keep yourself from dying, but this isn’t that.

This is about literally being so busy to never have time to die. People complain all the time about being ‘so busy’. Every single college student will tell you that, that they’re ‘so busy’, like getting up at 11 is so hard when they forget that they used to get up at 7 to go to high school. People stay busy with jobs, with social lives, with hobbies. Everywhere you look, at any given point, somebody is doin’ something. They’re reading a book, or riding a bike or watching a movie or having dinner with friends or going on dates or working until closing, or, yes, being in school. Everyone has a constricted schedule in which what they want to do often takes a backseat to what they have to do. In my case, the thing that keeps getting pushed back is killing myself, and it doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it. Just like those other people, it doesn’t mean they don’t want to take the weekend off for themselves and try and learn a new language or see the new action flick, they just don’t have the time or the energy, and let’s face it, killing yourself takes a lot of effort. My preference has always been to hang myself, but then I gotta get a rope so I gotta probably go to the hardware store and buy a rope and then learn to tie a knot good enough that it won’t come undone, and then find somewhere to hang myself, find a surface high enough that it’ll kill me when I’m not standing on it anymore. I mean, by the time I got to the actual act of hanging myself, I’m wasted half my fuckin’ day just prepping, and that’s without a note! Honestly, who’s got the fuckin’ time?

So, this is just what’s working for me. I hope those who are struggling also continue, as I don’t want anyone else to die. I just personally don’t wanna be alive, but I am, and I’m working with the hand I’ve been dealt. So let’s go for one more round universe, take me around the sun another time.

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She Is An Apocalypse

There is a hurricane swirling inside of her. Twisting and turning, ripping her apart, emotions scattered to and fro. It rages, it never quiets, it barrels through her thoughts and through her feelings, destructive and dangerous, destroying her from the inside out.

There is a fire roaring inside of her. Burning and raging, filling her every inch with embers of pain. It roars and flares up, burning anything in its path to ashes. It’s gearing up to turn her mind to cinders and toast her every hope and dream.

There is an earthquake rolling inside of her. It is thunderous and loud, rocking her beliefs and shaking her trust. Her morals quake and quiver, giving way to self destructive decision after self destructive decision. It is dismantling her inner establishment of confidence, turning it into rubble at her feet, burying it deep beneath.

She is an apocalypse, tearing down her walls and gearing up for a final burst, charging up her sun spots to eradicate every molecule that makes her. She’s a walking nuclear war, bombs falling endlessly, blowing every bit of her to smithereens. She is a viral outbreak, sickening herself worse and worse until there’s nothing left except a corpse that looks nothing like the girl they once knew.

She will burn brightly, she will fade fast, and she will be remembered fondly, not as someone who mattered, but someone who was fascinating to watch flare out.

She is extinguished.

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Beauty

I was once a leaf, perched high atop a tree; I was once a flower, growing from the ground

I was once a painting, made for all to see; I was once a song, a symphony of sound

But seasons change and leaves fall out, they’re stepped on, crushed to dust

And flowers are all picked out, to give to those you trust

And paintings are stored in closets, never to be seen again

And music, it becomes muted, and never makes it to the end

Everything that was once beautiful, that we held in high esteem; everything we all admired, everything that made us dream

It all goes away eventually, nothing’s as it seems; beauty gives way to darkness, laughter gives way to screams

So destroy me all you want, erase my heart and soul; quiet all my thoughts and words and take away control

Because no matter what you do, I was beautiful one day; and I know that’s more than you will ever get to say.

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There’s No Such Thing As Anything

We need to collectively, as a society, stop believing that anything has inherent value or meaning or purpose, because guess what…nothing means anything.

We, as human beings, created everything. All our precious little labels and identifiers that we so proudly wear as bumper stickers or put in our blog bios? They don’t mean a god damn thing, because we made them up, therefore they’re not even real. Everything we believe in, things people tout as facts, opinions, whatever, they’re none of that. They’re concepts. They’re ideas. They’re shit we came up with to differentiate ourselves from other people that we hate. To continue to believe that the inherent nothingness means a damn thing is false hope. You’re believing in nothing.

Now, that isn’t to say that there’s something wrong with believing in nothing. Hell, the entire human basis for faith and politics are based on believing in shit we came up with ourselves. Nobody ever handed us a list of what was going to be important as we continued to evolve. Just one day one large group of people decided to have different ideologies than another large group of people, and suddenly we were split down the middle and later on that splintered even more as peoples ideas narrowed or widened. Now we have the political or faith system that has culminated from our shitty, sudden beliefs. But, if believing in something like God gives you comfort, helps you through your day to day life and makes you happier, there’s nothing inherently wrong with that so long as you don’t use that belief to harm others or stop anyone from living how they do or believing what they believe. So, it’s not wrong to believe in nothing, but it is wrong to use that nothingness belief to harm others.

But I still think the sooner we all come to our senses and admit that this is all such a colossal joke, that none of this means a god damned thing and that we just created a bunch of shit to complicate our existences, the better off we’ll all be because maybe it’ll allow us to reach a better middle road. I know that for me, personally, realizing that there’s no such thing as anything really cleared a lot up for me in understanding the world and others around me. This positive nihilism has allowed me to continue living, allowed me to laugh at everything around me and has ultimately saved my life. Without accepting that nothing means anything, I’d likely be dead.

It just sort of helps put everything into perspective. Bad day? It’s ok, because it doesn’t matter in the long run. Good day? Awesome, because you might not have another good day for a while. None of it means a damn thing, but it’s still nice to experience. That’s what existence is for; to exist. The meaning of life is to live it, even if it means you have to laugh at it 99% of the time.

Frankly, I’d rather laugh than cry, and I think that’s a step in the right direction.

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I Want To See The End

I want to see the world end.

I want to be sitting in my bedroom when they run the sirens and I can see the flames raining down outside. I want to hear the screams, the worry, the terror. I want to know for certainty that we caused our own demise, that we were the reasons for our own downfall. Our greed, our gluttony, our materialism, our egotism. I want to know we did this to ourselves. I want to see it end. I want to see the world burn, and the fires blaze and the people cry. I want to be there afterwards, to see what kind of better future may possibly come from this, knowing full well there’s no such thing as a ‘better future’ so long as we’re involved in it.

I want to see the end. I want to wander the world afterwards and tell the leftovers that they’re responsible for this. That this is their fault. That their small minded put us here. That this could’ve been avoided, had they not been so simple, so narrow, in their beliefs. Willing to just, once in a while, listen to someone else. A differing opinion, an alternate viewpoint, isn’t admitting you’re wrong, but that you’re reasonable enough to listen because you don’t know everything, and that there’s nothing wrong with that. But here we are, it’s the end, and it’s all. your. fault. I want people to feel the isolation I have felt, the hopelessness, the terror and the madness and the utter burning sensation of loneliness that comes with being the one person the world doesn’t want. Now it’s over. Now the world doesn’t want everyone, so how’s it feel to be just like me?

I don’t want the world to end because I hate it. I don’t want the world to end because it deserves to. I want the world to end so that finally, maybe finally, people can understand for once how I’ve felt for my entire life, because I don’t belong in this world, so maybe we can all belong in this new one. I have to literally wait for the world to end, for everyone to feel lost and forgotten, before I feel like I can connect with my own species. That’s a real statement on society.

I want to see the world end. I want to see the ruin and destruction and ugliness because maybe for once I could see a world that has something in common with myself.