When an exceptionally massive star burns the last of its nuclear fuel, and there is no longer enough energy to offset its enormous mass, it collapses under the weight of its own gravity. Unlike smaller stars, which simply shrink in size (but not mass) and burn out, or big stars that explode, unusually huge stars have so much mass that they collapse into a black hole, an object with such massive gravitational force that nothing can escape their gravitational pull, not even light.
Something similar is happening to me. I have run out of energy, both physically and spiritually, and now I am collapsing into a black hole of hopeless despair so deep and dark that there is no escape. I can feel myself teetering on the brink of oblivion. I despise myself so much that I can no longer see any option other than death. I no longer have the energy to continue fighting to live in my self-contained, self-made darkness. I can't stand being the heart of darkness anymore, but I cannot escape the immense gravity of my despair and self-loathing. I feel as if I am being compressed, squeezed, crushed, and the only escape from being who I am is death.
I wish I was dead, but wishing won't make it so. Unless something drastic happens, I may have to end this life. I don't want to. I don't want to hurt all the people that care about me. But I can't go on like this anymore. I'm burned out, and I just want this to end.
I wish there were another way.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Goodbye, 2008, And Good Riddance
I know that the division of time into calendar years is arbitrary, and that Day One of one year is really no different than Day 365 of the previous one. Still, even if the day the year changes is arbitrary, it does represent another trip around the sun. With that in mind, I bid farewell to 2008, a bad year by any measure.
It wasn't all bad, of course. Even the worst life has a few moments of joy. Even the most miserable person has days of contentment or even brief happiness. I am no different. However, by any objective measurement, 2008 for me had far more bad moments than good ones.
In terms of my mood, though, it was one of the worst. The darkness in my heart flooded the rest of me and threatened to consume me completely. I haven't come so close to choosing suicide as I did last year. For the first time since 2000, I spent weeks at a time trapped in a self-created prison of darkness, thinking constantly of suicide and praying for an accident or a heart attack or some other socially acceptable death.
Financially, it was a catastrophe. I began last year with less than $200 to my name. I begin this year with about the same. Financial stress makes everything else difficult, but what is worse than that is the knowledge that it will never get any better. This is my life - scraping by, paycheque to paycheque - and this is all my life will ever be.
You probably wonder how I can possibly know that things won't get better. The answer is painfully simple. If things are ever to improve, then it is up to me to make it happen, and I can't, or I won't. I'm working with my psychiatrist on the reasons I subconsciously want to fail, on the reasons I unconsciously need to sabotage myself, but we have made little progress. In the mean time, I'm too afraid to change and too afraid to take any risks. I may be creating fear in myself in order to avoid taking any risks in life, but that doesn't make the fear any less real or any less paralyzing. I keep myself in a prison of fear and despair. I am the heart of my own self-contained darkness. I will do what I've always done, because deep down, I seem to want and need to be a failure.
Still, 2008 was worse than most years, and I'm glad it's gone. Fuck you, 2008. Rest in peace, motherfucker. I wish I had died, but I didn't, so I guess I have to stumble my way through another crappy year where I am the heart of the darkness I live in. Fuck.
It wasn't all bad, of course. Even the worst life has a few moments of joy. Even the most miserable person has days of contentment or even brief happiness. I am no different. However, by any objective measurement, 2008 for me had far more bad moments than good ones.
In terms of my mood, though, it was one of the worst. The darkness in my heart flooded the rest of me and threatened to consume me completely. I haven't come so close to choosing suicide as I did last year. For the first time since 2000, I spent weeks at a time trapped in a self-created prison of darkness, thinking constantly of suicide and praying for an accident or a heart attack or some other socially acceptable death.
Financially, it was a catastrophe. I began last year with less than $200 to my name. I begin this year with about the same. Financial stress makes everything else difficult, but what is worse than that is the knowledge that it will never get any better. This is my life - scraping by, paycheque to paycheque - and this is all my life will ever be.
You probably wonder how I can possibly know that things won't get better. The answer is painfully simple. If things are ever to improve, then it is up to me to make it happen, and I can't, or I won't. I'm working with my psychiatrist on the reasons I subconsciously want to fail, on the reasons I unconsciously need to sabotage myself, but we have made little progress. In the mean time, I'm too afraid to change and too afraid to take any risks. I may be creating fear in myself in order to avoid taking any risks in life, but that doesn't make the fear any less real or any less paralyzing. I keep myself in a prison of fear and despair. I am the heart of my own self-contained darkness. I will do what I've always done, because deep down, I seem to want and need to be a failure.
Still, 2008 was worse than most years, and I'm glad it's gone. Fuck you, 2008. Rest in peace, motherfucker. I wish I had died, but I didn't, so I guess I have to stumble my way through another crappy year where I am the heart of the darkness I live in. Fuck.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
It Just Doesn't Stop
I am not asking for an easy, stress-free life. I am not asking to be free of problems or pain. All I am asking for is a couple of months that are free of financial problems. Is that too much to ask?
All year, the bad crap just keeps piling on. It just doesn't stop! At the beginning of the year, I had no car and sixty dollars in the bank. Until I got paid last week, I had no car, AND SIXTY FUCKING DOLLARS IN THE GODDAMN BANK! It's just bad crap after bad crap! Can't I have a break for two measly months?
The last two months make me want to jump off a fucking bridge! First I get in a minor accident. There goes almost $200 to fix my friend's car. Then the car needs a $1000 brake job, and buddy asks me to pay half. What am I going to say? He's been nice enough to lend me a car FOR EIGHT MONTHS, and since I've been able to save exactly zero dollars towards a car of my own, I may have to drive it for another eight. If I tell him to get lost, then I am minus a car. So there's $500 I owe him. Super. Last week, one of my teeth exploded, and a filling popped out and ran the fuck away. So on top of everything else, I've got to get that fixed. Sure, I get some of that back from my employer's health insurance, but I have to pay up front and submit a claim. No, I didn't need those extra couple hundred bucks! Why would I need those? I'M MADE OF FUCKING MONEY! WHEN I TAKE A DUMP, INSTEAD OF POO, THERE'S GOLD BRICKS!
Everyone has unexpected expenses. Bad things happen to everyone. I understand that. I accept that I am just like everyone else, in the sense that bad stuff happens to me, just like it happens to other people. But this year, it just never ends! Every time I manage to scrape together a few hundred bucks and dream my modest little dream of a 20-year-old beat-up shit box car of my own, something inevitably happens and the money's gone. AGAIN. I am so sick of this stupid, endless stream of crap that I swear to God Almighty that if anything else happens before now and Christmas (an occasion that will reduce my bank account to a double-digit laughingstock all by itself), anything that costs me more than fifty bucks, I WILL JUMP OFF A FUCKING BRIDGE. I'm serious. I will kill myself out of sheer spite. Take my money, will you? Fine, try getting any more when I'M DEAD! Good luck with that, motherfuckers.
I am not complaining about where I am in life. I have reached the point where I have accepted my lack of ambition. I am okay with not owning a house or vacationing in Italy. I don't need to be driving a brand new BMW. All I am sick of is the string of bad luck that just doesn't stop, and that is preventing me from even owning my own car. All I want is a late 80's or early 90's beaten-up piece of junk to call my own. Is that too much to ask? I'm not asking for a lottery win. I just want two or three months of smooth sailing so I can BUY A GODDAMN CAR. I want a break from bad luck, just for a little while, but the bad luck just doesn't stop. Fuck.
All year, the bad crap just keeps piling on. It just doesn't stop! At the beginning of the year, I had no car and sixty dollars in the bank. Until I got paid last week, I had no car, AND SIXTY FUCKING DOLLARS IN THE GODDAMN BANK! It's just bad crap after bad crap! Can't I have a break for two measly months?
The last two months make me want to jump off a fucking bridge! First I get in a minor accident. There goes almost $200 to fix my friend's car. Then the car needs a $1000 brake job, and buddy asks me to pay half. What am I going to say? He's been nice enough to lend me a car FOR EIGHT MONTHS, and since I've been able to save exactly zero dollars towards a car of my own, I may have to drive it for another eight. If I tell him to get lost, then I am minus a car. So there's $500 I owe him. Super. Last week, one of my teeth exploded, and a filling popped out and ran the fuck away. So on top of everything else, I've got to get that fixed. Sure, I get some of that back from my employer's health insurance, but I have to pay up front and submit a claim. No, I didn't need those extra couple hundred bucks! Why would I need those? I'M MADE OF FUCKING MONEY! WHEN I TAKE A DUMP, INSTEAD OF POO, THERE'S GOLD BRICKS!
Everyone has unexpected expenses. Bad things happen to everyone. I understand that. I accept that I am just like everyone else, in the sense that bad stuff happens to me, just like it happens to other people. But this year, it just never ends! Every time I manage to scrape together a few hundred bucks and dream my modest little dream of a 20-year-old beat-up shit box car of my own, something inevitably happens and the money's gone. AGAIN. I am so sick of this stupid, endless stream of crap that I swear to God Almighty that if anything else happens before now and Christmas (an occasion that will reduce my bank account to a double-digit laughingstock all by itself), anything that costs me more than fifty bucks, I WILL JUMP OFF A FUCKING BRIDGE. I'm serious. I will kill myself out of sheer spite. Take my money, will you? Fine, try getting any more when I'M DEAD! Good luck with that, motherfuckers.
I am not complaining about where I am in life. I have reached the point where I have accepted my lack of ambition. I am okay with not owning a house or vacationing in Italy. I don't need to be driving a brand new BMW. All I am sick of is the string of bad luck that just doesn't stop, and that is preventing me from even owning my own car. All I want is a late 80's or early 90's beaten-up piece of junk to call my own. Is that too much to ask? I'm not asking for a lottery win. I just want two or three months of smooth sailing so I can BUY A GODDAMN CAR. I want a break from bad luck, just for a little while, but the bad luck just doesn't stop. Fuck.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Suicide
The world is going to hell, and rather quickly. It is sinking into a swamp of Islamic terrorism and fundamentalism, war, disease, disastrous climate change and capitalist greed gone berserk. I weep for the future. Perhaps it is time to abandon this sinking ship.
My own life is swirling down the toilet in an entirely different, but no less frightening and disturbing, way. Suicide looks like an excellent option. Life stinks, and I'm not sure I want to be part of it any longer.
My own life is swirling down the toilet in an entirely different, but no less frightening and disturbing, way. Suicide looks like an excellent option. Life stinks, and I'm not sure I want to be part of it any longer.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Praying For Death
I am very tired of being alive. I don't like myself, and I find being me is tiresome and pointless. I refuse to commit suicide (for various reasons we won't go into here), but I pray for cancer, heart disease, or some other incurable and terminal illness, so that I might have a socially acceptable way to die.
I am monstrous and evil, and worse, subconsciously, I want to be where I am. I make myself suffer because deep down, in the blackest pit of my dark and sinister soul, I want to suffer. I feel I deserve to suffer. There is, however, only so much suffering one can take, and I have had my fill. I am sick and tired of my custom-made hell, my self-created mental and emotional prison. I have had enough of the darkness. I have had it with being the very heart of the darkness that defines my life. I am just going to say it. I want to die.
Call it self-pity. Call it a death wish. Call it misguided anger, mental illness, stupidity or abject blindness to the wonderful possibilities of life. Call it what you will. I don't fucking care. Use whatever label you desire. All I can say is that I get down on my knees each night and pray to whatever gods may be that I don't wake up in the morning, because I am so utterly exhausted with being who I am. I don't hate life, I hate myself. I hate being me. Since I can't be anyone else, then I want to die.
May my heart explode tonight. I sincerely hope I don't live to write another post in this stupid blog nobody reads anyway. It's all so pointless and stupid.
I am monstrous and evil, and worse, subconsciously, I want to be where I am. I make myself suffer because deep down, in the blackest pit of my dark and sinister soul, I want to suffer. I feel I deserve to suffer. There is, however, only so much suffering one can take, and I have had my fill. I am sick and tired of my custom-made hell, my self-created mental and emotional prison. I have had enough of the darkness. I have had it with being the very heart of the darkness that defines my life. I am just going to say it. I want to die.
Call it self-pity. Call it a death wish. Call it misguided anger, mental illness, stupidity or abject blindness to the wonderful possibilities of life. Call it what you will. I don't fucking care. Use whatever label you desire. All I can say is that I get down on my knees each night and pray to whatever gods may be that I don't wake up in the morning, because I am so utterly exhausted with being who I am. I don't hate life, I hate myself. I hate being me. Since I can't be anyone else, then I want to die.
May my heart explode tonight. I sincerely hope I don't live to write another post in this stupid blog nobody reads anyway. It's all so pointless and stupid.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
I Am What I Am
A curious peace has fallen over me of late, in spite of my self-propelled, self-contained darkness. I cannot say I am happy, but I have come to accept myself.
I am a monster.
I am a monstrous, vile and deeply flawed human being. I am selfish and evil in the worst way. If thinking evil thoughts were a crime, I would be hanged. I have done terrible things and hurt people I love. I have crossed dark lines and committed acts so foul as to be unspeakable. I deserve to be alone in darkness forever.
And I accept that.
I am what I am. I am a hideous monster, and I accept it, and strangely, it has brought me an odd tranquility. I cannot say I am happy. But looking in the mirror no longer horrifies me. I cannot explain it, except to say that I accept what I am.
I am a monster.
I am a monstrous, vile and deeply flawed human being. I am selfish and evil in the worst way. If thinking evil thoughts were a crime, I would be hanged. I have done terrible things and hurt people I love. I have crossed dark lines and committed acts so foul as to be unspeakable. I deserve to be alone in darkness forever.
And I accept that.
I am what I am. I am a hideous monster, and I accept it, and strangely, it has brought me an odd tranquility. I cannot say I am happy. But looking in the mirror no longer horrifies me. I cannot explain it, except to say that I accept what I am.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Alone
From childhood's hour, I have not been
As others were - I have not seen
As others saw - I could not bring
My passions from a common spring
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow - I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone
And all I loved, I loved alone.
- Edgar Allen Poe, "Alone"
It is strangely comforting to know that Poe once felt the way I feel. He knew the darkness like few others. I know darkness, too. I am its cold, windswept, barren heart. Of course, I have a tiny fraction of his immense talent. If I could fashion the darkness around me into some kind of art, then my sorrow and loneliness and pain would serve a purpose. Instead, all I have is a blog that few will ever read. This is true loneliness. To be surrounded by people, and yet feel no connection to any of them. I suffer within a darkness that others cannot even see. The world, it seems, is coloured differently to me.
Even as I write this, I am filled with despair. My writing is so bland and uninspiring and pedestrian and stupid. I live in a darkness that I can't even adequately describe. How sad. How very sad.
As others were - I have not seen
As others saw - I could not bring
My passions from a common spring
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow - I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone
And all I loved, I loved alone.
- Edgar Allen Poe, "Alone"
It is strangely comforting to know that Poe once felt the way I feel. He knew the darkness like few others. I know darkness, too. I am its cold, windswept, barren heart. Of course, I have a tiny fraction of his immense talent. If I could fashion the darkness around me into some kind of art, then my sorrow and loneliness and pain would serve a purpose. Instead, all I have is a blog that few will ever read. This is true loneliness. To be surrounded by people, and yet feel no connection to any of them. I suffer within a darkness that others cannot even see. The world, it seems, is coloured differently to me.
Even as I write this, I am filled with despair. My writing is so bland and uninspiring and pedestrian and stupid. I live in a darkness that I can't even adequately describe. How sad. How very sad.
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