(no subject)
Sometimes it's midnight, just barely a Saturday, and I'm just sitting alone in an untidy living room. Hungry, sad. Too sad to do anything about either the hunger or the mess or the sadness itself. Sort of an endless ring of sadness if you say it like that. Sad sad sad sad...aren't words supposed to lose their meaning if you say them enough? Instead of transforming into an empty foreign sound, this tiny one-syllable gains momentum and weight with each utterance.
I threw away a future; it's never coming back. I don't known where my random outbursts of hope and excitement for a full, well-lived life come from.
Every night there's nightmares yet the morning is always an unwelcome time. Often I completely let it pass me by and drag myself into the shower only because I have to shower and look "beautiful" and happy for work because I need money to support this dead relationship these dead dreams this deadness just deadness
And I think about just being dead a lot, an awful awful lot. I think about falling from an overpass late on a Friday night down to the hundreds of oncoming white lights and what that very last moment might be like. Regret or hope or fear or just nothing.
Upcoming birthdays always seem to cast me into a very dark place and this year seems to be trudging along ahead of schedule. Every time I think about what I'll tell people I have planned I think of being alone and wondering if anyone cares enough to know where I am or what I'm doing and maybe my parents will just get those foster kids and my sister will be successful and have her own family and my brother doesn't really me miss me anyhow.
What is there to miss anyway? Some false idea of this wonderful person I've miraculously come to be? I'm still the same fucked up mess only these days it's more pathetic and tragic than ever before.
Even when people do care I'm still just not cut out to have any sort of relationship with anyone ever not my family or a best friend or a real lover not even that dude I always make small talk with at qt or regulars in my restaurant.
I'm a quitter and I don't want to try anymore
I threw away a future; it's never coming back. I don't known where my random outbursts of hope and excitement for a full, well-lived life come from.
Every night there's nightmares yet the morning is always an unwelcome time. Often I completely let it pass me by and drag myself into the shower only because I have to shower and look "beautiful" and happy for work because I need money to support this dead relationship these dead dreams this deadness just deadness
And I think about just being dead a lot, an awful awful lot. I think about falling from an overpass late on a Friday night down to the hundreds of oncoming white lights and what that very last moment might be like. Regret or hope or fear or just nothing.
Upcoming birthdays always seem to cast me into a very dark place and this year seems to be trudging along ahead of schedule. Every time I think about what I'll tell people I have planned I think of being alone and wondering if anyone cares enough to know where I am or what I'm doing and maybe my parents will just get those foster kids and my sister will be successful and have her own family and my brother doesn't really me miss me anyhow.
What is there to miss anyway? Some false idea of this wonderful person I've miraculously come to be? I'm still the same fucked up mess only these days it's more pathetic and tragic than ever before.
Even when people do care I'm still just not cut out to have any sort of relationship with anyone ever not my family or a best friend or a real lover not even that dude I always make small talk with at qt or regulars in my restaurant.
I'm a quitter and I don't want to try anymore