010613

 

Still battling the crushing dysphoria.
Still wanting to die.
Still tired of all the old scars and new blood.

Haven't really been upstairs since the 3rd week of December or so.
Don't really have motivation to do anything right now.
Trying to go to the gym daily. Problem is then I don't want to come home.
Seriously tempted to just crash on the streets one day.
Feel like I'm falling apart, scraped out and empty.

Keep letting go of more and more possessions.
Down to basically my computers, clothes, and old art tablets now.
Completely willing to toss them all too if need be.

When I was younger, I prayed that 12-21-12 would really be the end.
I wanted to die. I looked forward to it, even.
I wanted a restart. I wanted a reset. I wanted relief.
I wanted to get out of this body and stay out.
When that didn't happen, I think something slipped.

I'm trying to smile. Trying to keep on keeping on.
Reminding myself that I am not this body.
Reminding myself that death and life are both an illusion.
Reminding myself that one day I will return to where I came from.
It doesn't make living any easier though.

I feel like an apocalyptic paradox.
I'm still torn between sleeping the days away, or burning them to ashes.
I think they were right. I really am destructive.
Now I've realized that it's just a mutated prayer.
Maybe if I tear this reality to the ground,
a new one will be born from it.

I feel like a dying phoenix.
Waiting for that final breath
that never seems to come.
Silently counting the fading moments
before my bones burst into flame.
The end never seems to come soon enough.

I don't want to sound so demanding.
I don't want anything, I want the loss of everything.
Maybe this is projected ego death? I hope so.
Even so I really do want to die, on all levels.
I'm tired.
I'm so tired.

The stars still bring tears to my eyes.
God, I want to go home.
I still can't remember why I came here.
I still can't seem to remember.
All I know is that I feel so old,
and I feel so young,
and I am so, so tired.

God, please, just take me home already.
I'm willing to sacrifice it all at this point.
This body confuses me.
This world confuses me.
Honestly, the only thing of worth in this reality
seems to be the things I know beyond it.
So why stay, I ask myself?
Why stay any longer?

Don't leave your kid without a father.

That's the only thing I'm holding on to right now.
But nights like this,
I wonder if she wouldn't be better off without me.
But then I remember what that comicbook angel told me last January.

Think about them if that's the only thing that's gonna get you out of this.
But you can't just pull the trigger, go over the stars, and expect that to be the end, 'cause it ain't.
They'll just send you right back down under them, kid.
But something tells me you're gonna get it right this time.
Hell, as if you haven't been getting it right all along...
Tell you what, kid. Next time I see you here,
I want you to be pretty darn early, and I don't want you bleeding, aiite?

Maybe I can survive for nine more days.
We can try again, maybe.
If my heart didn't feel so incarcerated,
I'd have a little more hope,
instead of red-soaked hands and an asphyxiated soul.


Still battling the crushing dysphoria.
Still wanting to die.
Still tired of all the old blood and new scars.

And still I keep thinking of Laurie and the lights.

Aren't things like this worth living for?

Isn't she worth living for?
Aren't they all worth living for?
Last night, all I could see were stars.
I love all of them, every last one of them...

It's not about me though, it's not about me.
It's not.

God, what do I do?



Bury me in snow and turn this life from red to white.
Burn me to ashes and turn these bones from white to red.

Rewind this tape. Restart this game. Please.
Just one more time.
Just one more time.

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.


Why am I still waiting?