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[9:27 am]
I need help. My senses scramble to tell every stranger this testimony. How ridiculous. Why am I so determined to believe and champion this ill disposition? Sometimes I can’t understand whether I need help or whether I have a highly elaborate subconscious thought system plotting my downfall. I am not all too well. Perhaps, I have transcended ill-maybe not so and I have now actually debilitated myself. I can’t recall properly how this came to be. On hindsight, it seems fascinating. Did I one day wake up and decide “I am a self-destructive spectator. I will observe and internalize much of the subtle terribleness of everything and keep silent until one day the silence hurts too much and screams scars on my existence. I will try to desperately ask everyone ‘everything is so terrible, how could you live with yourself?’ And no one will listen to me. Then one day I will tell this to the person that I, in all my horrid well of hateful pathetic-ness, loved very much. She will look away from this desperate call and plea for help and I will make the decision to leave this world altogether. I will never walk on this world the same way I once did.”? Now, I look back and I’m amused. Strictly speaking, this is kind of very funny, in a cruel way. I like to think I think so anyway. More recently, I alternate between two different “existences”. If I, for instance, see a limping animal, my insides shrivel and I feel nauseous and become very very sad and get sick. But then, when I, for instance, made the decision a while back to abandon my “friends” (yes, I used to acclaim such ridiculous declarations of human friendship), I said deliberately hurtful things and it did not leave a single impression on me. In fact, I must have felt something like pride. Look, I told myself, look how absolutely miserable you are and look, look how absolutely horrible you can be. I don’t know why this is an achievement. Perhaps it is so because it validates my adieu.

Posted 8 Years Ago