My Journal from April 4


I have always been good at bringing myself down. But this current episode has a different texture. It’s as if the collective hatred of others is gradually crushing me. The air is thin and the dark looming. What else could it be? I deserve it. Death, suffocation ’til expired. Why can’t I gather the nerve to do it? I live in agony with no courage to kill myself. Wimp.

I could just down all my sleeping meds one night, pass quietly in the night. There is nothing to live for. I betrayed myself. I stink of death. Lingering here is a curse. Death come sweetly, softly whisper my name, hold me in your arms, cradle me in your bosom. Let life escape me so I can rest once and for all.

These are my thoughts, there is at yet, no intent present.


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