I sometimes envy people who have the capacity to feel an intense positive emotion
I'd rather read a chapter from a book written by a reality TV star than watch a whole episode of King of the Hill.
I still think about killing myself. But I keep thinking about the times I've pleaded for my life when I was truly hopeless. And the rarified moments of immense physical pain in my life. Moments I try to forget with copious amounts of alcohol and various spastic distractions.
And I remember that I have people to kill first.
I can't decide if I'd rather work or be committed. I think the main argument against the white walls and rubber rooms is a complete lack of hand-tools, robots, and my dog.
There are whole days that pass where I don't think about my scars.
It really hurts when I touch them.
There are whole days when my back doesn't hurt. I'm asleep for most of them.
I will be turning 26, alone in my house, counting my savings, and wondering how much longer I can do this.
on several levels.
I came at 25 with such passion and boldness, and left it with a cold, seething anger cancered with a heartless dull pain.
I keep thinking "one drink will make me feel better".
One drink will make my back stop hurting.
One drink will make me not care.
One drink will make me think about something else.
That one drink hasn't come yet. Literally... I haven't had a drink in almost 2 weeks.
What really freaks me out are the days where I feel fine... what if its all in my head?
What if the pain, the anger, the ...
isn't
really
there.
and I'm just a nut. What if there is no Houdini Sanchez to kill... and I'm just a sad drunk slipping off the edge of the world day by day.
Maybe I did this to myself.
Maybe that's why I can't remember everything that happened...
It seems likely enough.
Have you met me?
