Full collapse. -Edit_

I made it two weeks without drinking.

On friday night my friend, The Garce, had his going away party. He just left for Seattle two hours ago.

I drank with him on friday.

I didn’t drink that much…I guess two weeks turned me into somewhat of a lightweight.

I realised I don’t really like drinking that much.

 

…

But now I am starting to have to face some things.

All of the things I don’t like about myself that I thought I could ignore with drinking.

All of the things I don’t like about the world that I thought I could ingnore with drinking.

 

…

 

I am a truly unhappy person.

 

It’s really hard to say that without following it up with "and that’s why I drink."

…the statement just kind of stands alone now.

 

I’m going to have to face that.

I’m unhappy.

It’s not because I’m lacking something, or need something, or that someone can do something for me.

It’s just this state of being. A state of unhappiness. And I’m going to have to deal with this.

I don’t know how to deal with it…but I’m going to have to.

 

Fuck.

 

So there’s that.

 

 -Edit_

 

Lately this weird thought has been popping up in my head.

I will be driving around, or just looking around, and all of the people that I see…well, I just sit and wonder about them.

Here are all of these people who I will never know, who will never know me.

They are alive right now, in this one specific space, in this one specific time…what were they before they were here? What will they be when they are gone?

In this tiny frame of life that they have, be it thirty or forty or fifty years…maybe even less, this is all they will know.

History has been manipulated. The future doesn’t exist.

This is all we will ever know.

And they are all dead…just not yet.

But it’s for certain that we are all dead.

I have people telling me I need to go to school and save my money and think about my future.

But I don’t feel like there is a future.

I am dead.

Just not yet.

So why would I care about this idea of a future?

If life really is a test, then I have already failed it. I mean…a passing grade is usually nothing less than 85% right? Or am I even being too generous there?

I mean, if we are counting correct answers/actions here, I’m probably running around the low 20’s.

So…what’s the point?

I’m not talking suicide here, because I am completely convinced that anything death has in store for me is equally as horrible as this shit hole existance…but what is the point of saving up and stocking up for a future that will never be there?

I will never be rich

I will never be a great traveler

I will never be recognised for my music

I have a hard time making any sort of real connections with people, so the chances that I will have any sort of life long friends is almost zero.

I’m just going to die a bitter old man…and that’s if I even get to be old, which is honestly not looking like such a great possibility.

 

I’ve fucked up everything.

I really have.

I am so fucking good at working hard for what I want, and I am even fucking better at not letting myself have it once it is actually within my reach.

What the fuck.

 

 

I seriously hate myself.

 

And I have to spend all day every day with myself.

 

I can’t want good things for myself and then not let myself have them if I am only one entity though.

That’s why I believe in the other thing.

Whatever the hell it is.

It’s there though.

 

The really scary part is that what I am aware of…what I know to be me…I don’t know if I am the part that wants to create or destroy.

What if I am not the victim but the predator?

 

Does this even make sense?

 

 

 

 

The world hates me more than this, you can’t be sure of who to trust.
Time rapes the wounded ones, time rapes the one’s who’ve had enough.
And I’ve had enough of this life…

Kill what’s inside me.

Take all your pervert thoughts, stick them somewhere where they can hide.
Baptism by the flame, promise me I’ll come out alive…but kill what’s inside me.