"I'm a joke. My life is a joke. I'm not worth your time." That was the ugly truth I had to hide from Emily. She didn't understand that I can know, but I can't do. So my words mean nothing, because they are attached to nothing. I wonder if she has figured this out.
I'm on the edge of understanding I should have committed social suicide with her honestly. I would be in a better position today. The position I'm in now is a living hell. It just never ends.
Money, of course, is God's trump card cross for happiness. I realize now no scheme I come up will solve it. I must surrender to suffering and death. It strips life of any meaning. Either you hit big with your dreams or God sabotages your every move. So I no longer try. It's very hard to understand you're not supposed to try and survive.
...
Still battling the stores. The pressure of always having to learn and knowing the price of even a single mistake is overwhelming. It will take years to salvage this situation. It seems I survived at depot but then I must ask myself, what have I won? At best, survival. It's really a matter of picking my trauma. I have to remember the no-trauma option does not exist. But in relative terms it seems it does. You're grateful to dodge the bullet but then the war goes on.
I am rage. Everything good gets absorbed by the perpetual funding required for my endless loneliness. Either I starve my body or my soul. I can't stand any particle of myself. Hope you're happy, God.
Beyond tired of abusing myself, always pretending. What am I going to do at the office? Yell out I've got no place to put my dick? I just stomp around miserable.
I'm only happy when trying to do the impossible. That madness has destroyed my life.. The pursuit of a false ego.
Life is nothing but an endless series of dispiriting chores.
My life has no meaning, purpose, or direction...
Amazon is taking over the world, using up all the land for their warehouses where we'll all be forced to work whether we like it or not. I joined the resistance. We went to raid one of their trucks bringing inventory but when we opened the cab there was no one there, no one to convert, driverless.
I and this other guy walked by a long, high smooth wall. "John Lennon lives behind there with his family," my companion informs me. At the bottom I saw a hole out which was a very active ant colony. I remember thinking I have about as much chance of getting in there as I do getting through that hole.
There were lots of us in the school hallways, some legitimate some not. Media was hanging around so the powers that be were distracted. I was an adult so people automatically assumed I was being responsible as kids are always the enemy in this world. But I was supposed to be showing up for some classes. Was waiting for the top of the hour when they start to join in but I got to talking and missed it. I was worried someone would notice the amount of time I'm playing hooky.
By another school is a clump of trees ringed by some bushes in their front lawn. There's a gap in the bushes and if you crawl through you find this hidden clear space, a perfect place to hide. It would be awesome to stay there and listen to everyone walk by and secretly know what's going on. But if I got found out there they'd all know I had no life. Must always pretend to have a life.
I am dying right before their eyes and no one says a word. Do they not see, or wish to see or just not say? Success for me is when I can hide my dying. Then I realize that's no success at all. Please let me die.
I can't shake the blackmares even after all these years. They are sapping my soul, draining me every time I close my eyes. How can I escape? They are more horrible than death. I must poach my talents to keep the lies alive to stave off nuclear winter. I must warm my house by burning the furniture but then it's gone and I'm cold with no furniture. Who would want to live in that house?
I can't stand the ads for Henley's 70th birthday concert. He's going to sing and tell stories and have 'special guests'. Sounds like heaven. I have the means to go if I wanted, that's not the issue. After a while I figured out what's bugging me. I wouldn't be able to suffer listening to someone talk about all the great things they've in the their life while I've done nothing. I get my nose rubbed in my own pee enough as it is.
I'm stuck in the bottom of a well. I jumped in here in 2009 thinking I was dead anyway and down here I couldn't embarrass Emily. No one can hear me, not even God. Never to touch or be touched. The blackmares can never stop while I'm here. Nothing else matters until I can get out. But who can help me even if they do hear me? Who can possibly love in this world? Death cannot come too soon.
I mourn Emily's absence every day. But if I were to say those exact words to her she would not believe them no matter how true. This is true of all my feelings. No one believes. So what is it I'm supposed to say?
All my efforts and energy and talents are perverted to the facade. I know what a normal person is supposed to say so I script out my lines even though I have no true interest in them. There actually is no such thing as Alzheimer or senility. It's just people's losing interest coming to light.
The truth is I have no future and should kill myself. I am too alone, too isolated. I can tell this truth to no one. No one can help. They don't have the time even if they wanted to. This has been true all my life since I fatally decided to hide my feelings and destroy myself. Nobody cares. They just can't wait to lie about doing it.
Was forced to face yet again how screwed I am without Emily. Listening to Sara talk and seeing her pursue her life forced me to realize the hopelessness of my own having failed to do so. I was a social disaster as always too.
Dear God: PLEASE STOP HURTING ME. PLEASE TAKE YOUR THUMB OFF THE SCALE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Without Emily, I have no breath. My heart has no beats of its own. So much of me is missing. Will she ever understand that? How can she when I keep refusing to communicate, to expose myself like I need. What's wrong with me that I fail real life so badly?
I'm out of intellectual moves to make. Nothing short of actual help can do now. How can I possibly get help?
All I want to do is lie.
my life is only getting more and more ridiculous. where's Emily?
Everything is an act. It's killing me. Act for work, for eating out, for movies, whatever. Always a different character. This dishonesty is a large part of my nightmares. I just want a girl. I don't want to die. All this just to cover up what everyone already knows. How can I not feel stupid and ashamed?
i want to die
May 11th, I've finally been given permission to commit suicide!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God is off the charts angry and wants me dead, dead, dead. Agents of evil will try to keep me here in torment. I will have to watch out for them. For the first time in my life I have hope of this hell ending.
i've never known fear like this. heart is racing, body is sweating. what can i do? where can i go? who can help now?
close to heart attack in the nights. selling these stores is life and death. if god has his thumb on the scale i'm fucking dead, end of story. all i want is a fair shot.
revenge on Debby. she's untouchable in this world, even by god. but god still has justice for those types and that's through their children. i can only hope that is the case here and that she jails herself by refusing to come clean as a dishonest parent.
death is the only thing left for me. i've left myself no way out. that's why everything keeps coming up with a dead end even though they are answers for normal people, nothing can work for me. no one will feel the pain my loss because no one can know, not even Emily.
suicide, come save me. i never want to move or breathe again.
so nobody knows i'm faking it all the time. i push it to the back of my mind to i can pretend to be functional. screwing up with Emily was a death sentence for me. nobody knows that either. what's left anyway?
no matter what I say to her, she's gonna say, "Who cares?" I can't see a way around that.
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