Friday, June 8, 2018
Monday, June 4, 2018
?
Motivational quote on my phone app today: "It's always too early to quit." - Bill Cosby. Ok, den. 👀
Sunday, June 3, 2018
SHE'S SO FAR ROUND THE BEND, SHE'S BACK HOME ALREADY
I feel a terrible binge coming on... I've been really good this year, only drinking 10 days. As proud as I am of my commitment to sobriety, this weekend has nearly left me for dead, both emotionally and spiritually. I won't get into details here, but I don't think I have the strength to keep holding it together. Sure, I'm on medication, I'm seeing a therapist for my issues, I'm doing my light-therapy every day... but my jaw is almost broken from all my screaming (I've screamed every night this week since Thursday). I'm terrified to go to sleep, afraid of how I'll hurt myself. I'm suicidal. I'm not ashamed to admit it; I've had suicidal ideations since I was 11. I know I will be like this until the day I finally slip off this mortal plane. It's not a matter of if, but of when. It's like: how long can I prolong the inevitable?
So the question that needs to be addressed is: why do I keep fighting when I know the conclusion? Am I dense? Stupid? Delusional? People who commit suicide don't just decide to do it one day at the drop of a hat. No, suicide is something someone like myself thinks about all the time, anytime, anywhere. It's a friend that sits upon my shoulder, haunting me wherever I go. And then when I try to interact in this cruel, tortured world, my little ghoul shimmies and shakes with fervent joy. "Keep going," the voice tells me. "You'll be free and the world will be free once you're gone." A fair bargain if you ask little ol' me.
So the question that needs to be addressed is: why do I keep fighting when I know the conclusion? Am I dense? Stupid? Delusional? People who commit suicide don't just decide to do it one day at the drop of a hat. No, suicide is something someone like myself thinks about all the time, anytime, anywhere. It's a friend that sits upon my shoulder, haunting me wherever I go. And then when I try to interact in this cruel, tortured world, my little ghoul shimmies and shakes with fervent joy. "Keep going," the voice tells me. "You'll be free and the world will be free once you're gone." A fair bargain if you ask little ol' me.
WE SHOULD CRAWL UNDER THE BRACKEN
One day it all won't matter. All the screaming (both at night and during the day), all the useless tug and pull that is life, all the tears shed for no one and nothing, all the meaningless words fallen on deaf ears... none of it matters and it never will. We were born to suffer, to maim and be maimed. To jump through hoops of fiery rings--only to land in a swirling pool of lava. We chide ourselves that this is it: to fight and fight and fight and fight and fight and fight and fight and then die. In our minds we make up a fantasy to ward off reality. We escape in books, movies, games, drugs, alcohol, sex, work, religion. But we're zombies; we go to our allocated places of congregation, we portray our allocated roles appropriately and with zeal. But we haven't been aware of what we're doing and saying for millennia. We're hopelessly asleep... and in slumber do we dream... dreams of passion and dreams of horror. Life and death. And then...?
Saturday, June 2, 2018
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