I guess I stopped counting the days since you left. It hasn’t helped because I can’t forget the exact date. I know you are coming back, you promised to come back and you had better keep that promise. I want to know that you are okay. I want to stare at your face for no reason. I want to catch you staring at mine for no good reason. I want to have philosophical conversations and arguments with you. I want to sit in the kitchen with you as you cook, I promise not to be a distraction. I want you to run your fingers down my temple to my cheeks in the mornings. I want you to hug me for as long as possible because I had a tough day and then listen to me while I ramble on about the tough day.
It’s been particularly hard these past few weeks. I got a message from my therapist. He was saying hi. I thought I could mention something then but turns out he wanted to sell me insurance. I never kept up the conversation after I mentioned not needing insurance. My mum was strangled a week ago by my cousin who is still at large. Don’t worry, she is alive. I am not sure about her mental state though. Nobody gave me this information until 72 hours after it happened. I am the fragile lastborn who needs protection from bad news. All I wanted to do after getting the information was to call you and talk without pretending to be strong. Cry to you instead of alone. I wrote a letter but ended up crying so much on it that the ink ran too much and the writings are no longer legible. I also would not know where to send it.
I recently bought a human-sized teddy bear so I can have something to cuddle and talk to. I moved to a smaller place so the house feels a lot less empty. I’ll try not to lose my mind.
So, I feel like drowning myself in water. Not deep water, shallow water. I love being underwater. Shit looks so cool under here.” I wanna drown just a little. I do not want to die. I like to think that the universe still needs me alive. I just want to feel something to remind my self of my humanity. Just getting naked and pretending to drown me in water. I always feel some kind of freedom in nudity. Skinny dip underwater a little hoping that my neighbors are not at home.
I need a different environment from the real world. My reality is quickly metamorphosing into a figment of my imagination. Perhaps I’ll see things clearly if I get to that point of near death and have my life flash right before my eyes. I wonder what it is that I will see when this happens. This crappy feeling I have is driving me crazier than I am used to. I feel nothing at all and this worries me as I could be turning into a psychopath. I am finding it really hard to handle this madness. Cutting myself has not been working so far. I need something bordering on the extreme. I am kinda always crazy, it just never gets to this point. I might need a psychiatrist. This is a point where I drink the whole day and watch the extremely violent action and horror movies… I myself even know that I need help as soon as possible. Action movies are the most awesome part. The movies are even cooler to watch when I am high. I question whether it is the alcohol that is making me inebriated. It is definitely the alcohol though because I am fucking indifferent to everything else.
My life is just sad. “Do you want a drink? You can join me. I could really use a buddy right now even though I feel like I do not need one. I am starting to be a hazard to myself” Let’s go crazy together. The reason for going crazy…… I ain’t really sure. “Not sure?” “Yes yes yes.” I lack words to explain. I have no clue how I got to this point. I have this feeling. Crappy it is. I kinda like it. It’s a new one, I have never felt this one. I want it to go. I miss the normal me.
I actually regret visiting that last therapist I had. I now remember. Everything began going downhill after I visited her. I did exactly what she told me and one month later, this is me, about to drown myself. I thought to talk to a stranger who knew nothing about me would help but it just made things worse.
I should in back to handling my shit and fixing things. It works for me. It mostly involves self-destruction which is just as bad as that therapist. I wish I had everything in my life figured out. My demons just love me too much. They do not want to go away. Every once in a while I make love to my demons which are exactly what I should do.
Pretending to be okay is having a debilitating effect on me. Fuck this…… I will just walk to a random citizen and go like, “The smile on my face doesn’t mean am happy, it just means I’m way too drunk to change my expression and I would like you to slap me back to reality.”