I’m ready to die… or I’m ready to live. Not sure which yet.
It’s all starting to catch up with me. I can honestly say that I’ve always felt lonely, but up until now I’ve found ways of denying it. I got so good at the denial, I have ways to make sure I’m in that state at all times. But sometimes I forget my methods, times like now.
I’m lonely. I’m depressed. I hate who I am, I hate what I’ve become. At 40 years old, if I ever had any “looks”, they’re gone. At this point in my life, I’ve managed to alienate just about everyone who has ever been important to me. I have no friends left and I think my family has about given up on me at this point.
The fact is this… I want things to change, I want to live a better life. But I have little hope this is possible. Death seems like the best option. But I’m too much of a coward, or too much of an optimist to take my own life… I don’t know which. I’ve felt this way for as long as I can remember. In that time, I’ve had access to a gun… in fact, I held it in my hand, I even put the barrel in my mouth… loaded, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. At this very moment in time I have plenty of prescription drugs in my possession that I could easily take them all and wash them down with a cheap glass of red wine. But because of the cowardice or the optimism, I still don’t know which, I can’t… I won’t. Not today at least.
I’m not sure what I hope to get out of writing this down. Perhaps I think if I get it out, get out the things I can’t say to anyone, because I have noone to say them to that somehow the Universe or God or whatever will intervene and take pity on my miserable situation. It’s that sense of eternal hope that seems to eternally exist in me that seems to be keeping me alive, even though there are strong parts of me that can’t for the life me understand why.
The bottom line is this… something’s gotta give in my life. It’s either going to be something resembling a life… or it’s going to be the end. I can honestly say I don’t care which one so long as something happens.
I know I’m supposed to be grateful for what I have and there are many people who don’t live near the life I live. So what? I don’t feel grateful… I don’t feel anything except dark thoughts and hatred.
I’m either done or I’m just beginning… if I don’t figure out which soon… I’m going to choose “done”.