Spontaneously collapsed in a heap on the floor in my room tonight for what felt like hours, due to an overwhelming crescendo of the usual tension, boredom, misery, and all around general fatigue I feel every single day. Even after getting up, I still felt absolutely terrible. No reason as to why I wouldn't be, of course. No matter how awful I feel and no matter how long I choose to lay around with my face against the floor begging for a swift, unseen end to somehow finally come to me, inevitably, when I finally get up, I'll still be here. Trapped with my miserable little self, in my miserable little hole. I'm lost in a sea of my own restlessness and these waves of intensely painful sorrow I experience, intermingled with near bottomless sensations of emptiness, will never stop until I'm dead. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't always feel like shit, only to be broken up by moments like these where I really, REALLY feel like shit. The insufferable miasma of my own presence always hangs about me like a noxious, purple cloud and is totally inescapable. Truthfully, there never really is a moment where I don't feel at least slightly like crap. Hell, "slightly like crap", that'd be a good day, frankly.
In the end, my life is a tortuous grind towards nothing & nowhere that's worn my sanity & emotions down to flakes of dust, but I limp on enduring it becuase I'm still too timid to stick a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger. Why did this have to happen? Why did I need to come into this terrible world? How much longer must this go on for? How near or how far am I towards the ultimate end of all this awfulness? It all swirls around in my head like a centrifuge to the point of exploding, often taking the form of a throbbing headache, due to the palpable negative pressure it puts on my mind. I can quite literally feel the weight of my own thoughts, as if there's a tumor growing heavier & heavier within the confines of my skull. On that note, I hate myself & everything so much that I do seriously feel like I'm going to give myself brain cancer someday, assuming I haven't already. No matter what I say, it's never enough to properly convey how bad it all is. Perhaps nothing ever could. Even if I screamed at the top of my lungs & threw myself against the walls of my room 24/7, I'd still feel like I have duct tape over my mouth/soul. What else can be said, I guess. ItPost too long. Click here to view the full text.
