Just Shoot Me Now

I’m such a fucking idiot for thinking that my life could ever turn out any other way than fucked up. Absolutely retarded to hope that maybe if I tried hard enough or worked hard enough, or did enough of this or enough of that, that maybe someday everything would turn out fine. 

It seems that life really IS an ocean. You get to some high point at the top of a wave, and then you go right back down. Sure, someone could argue that you might go up another one and have another high point, but in the end the real question isn’t how many waves you cross; it’s how long you can put up with it all before you drown. 

When I was in the psyche ward as a teen, I heard over and over how people don’t really want to die- they just want to stop hurting and have things get better. I think that’s pretty much true. I’m also fairly certain that the better parts of my life are probably done with. 

I think the main reason I’ve even made it this far is that there ARE people I care about, who for whatever reason also care about me. I really don’t want to take anyone down with me. Which means here I stay. Alive and conscious to deal with every piece of shit that life kicks my way. 

I’d really rather not deal. 

So please, shoot me now. At least then I don’t have to worry about doing it myself someday.