Here we go again. Nothing getting done. Absolutely nothing. Mind clouded by so many things yet none of them clear. It’s pathetic. Regrets raining on me continuously. To just fucking start on something. or just end it. End myself. This last episode of low has been happening for so long now that I forgot how up feels. Even occasional blimps of elevation are shut down with such speed and efficiency. I’m at a loss. Failed self. Failed love. Failed life. If I weren’t such a pussy I’d be dead by now. I should be. I really should. I am so fucking numb that I don’t even attempt to end it. Just waiting on something to fall on me or hit me. To end me. I can’t even actively commit to suicide. Let alone life. No, this doesn’t mean I want to live. No not at all. Just that I am too fucking weak do kill myself. Powerful words. Kill myself. Gave me the shivers and a strange elevation. Not the first time. Powering me towards a future death. See ? I can’t even commit to a date. Because why pick a date. To not inconvenience people? Fuck that. They will or they won’t be. I mean the funeral part is a downer. but at least the rest is gone. After a bit of mourning. Or not mourning. Life will go on. No more false hopes. What is a hope anyway? Fucking laziness. Ah. So pointless. Yet, I don’t want to hurt anyone. Ironically I already failed at this too because I hurt those close to me every day. I really do. Fuck. I need to end.
bd diary . september 18
Published by madmagpie
Stream of happymess 
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To see the lows, and shy away is not a cowardly act, it’s the pit in the stomach, the inner yearning to be, to be your be, to strike back at the world with a middle finger, at yourself in the mirror and yell, I will not be your fucking play thing, I will not be your toy, I will overcome because I own my right to be me, and, through all the darkness and despair, you will my friend, in the darkest night, the light still beats within you. You know through all of this, that you are no coward, you, my friend are a god of your own world, one, I share and in the silent moments, when the mind stops racing, its true beauty is wondrous.
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Such beautiful message. The kind that revives and reinvigorates. For it pack a potency and inspiration. Truth. Thank you beyond, dear friend. Truly grateful to know you. Even if only through our imagination that we so freely put on a page and share with the world.
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The imagination grants a glimpse into the soul, a no matter how muddy the waters seem, the light, always shines a way home.
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In the end it always does… finds where it fits and while doing it discovering that it never truly left.
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