Gone mental

Notes from my Black
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2022-01-27 04:27:57 (UTC)

censoring negation

I hereby vow to absolutely present all my thoughts here unvarnished.

So, to all those people who present themselves to be my friend but can't be bothered to be real with me, fuck you. All three of you, go plunge your own hole... male or female, get it on... I'm sick of being real and open and kind to you when you offer little to my life. It's time I claim my own life, I guess.

This BEGS me to answer the question, why have I not claimed my own life. Fuck if I know. Therapy hasn't helped uncover that tidbit at all. My life has only been my own in fleeting skips of the stone that was tossed across the pond. How melodramatic is that? Oh, I can self loathe with the best of them. Just ask me about my marriage... or my ex's. Lately, you can ask me about my kids and I'd tell you they don't care if I'm here or not. In many ways their lives would be easier if I were gone. I mean the life insurance would probably not suck... but if I were to off myself, I think that payout would not happen. IDFK world... I like having this place I can just vent and have not one god damn person read it, but I've pissed in the ocean of other loathesome people... and voila, the magic happens, just to someone else, probably.

At what point does your trauma stop affecting you? I mean how is it that I know other people who have been raped but they don't fucking hate the person who did it? Truth is, I don't hate her, I hate myself for putting myself into that position. I got black drunk and woke up with my pants off and my dick looking at me like I jacked off with a brillo pad. I'd say what was I thinking, but I have no idea... that's what a fifth of vodka in 5 minutes will do. Yeah, I'd rather be the "pussy" that didn't drink it, and be called that name for rest of the time I knew those people...

I had this thought today that I would befriend a mortician with a body burner oven. I'm sure they could just tuck 1/10 of my ashes in with other randos and no one would ever know. Who knows, part of me may end up spread over the Caribbean or off Pikes Peak. That wouldn't suck. I've never been to either of those places.

Anyway, I'm not asking anyone to read this. I may even just keep it private... but then again, it's kinda like sex in a parking lot or in a park. The thought of someone reading it and hearing my most negative life thoughts... well, it's not masturbatory, but if you are a freak and get off on some one being on that edge of sanity, pull your pants and feel free to not tell me about it. You be you... ya freak.

I have this fantasy that I will find love. Yeah, I'm currently in a situation... but there is NO love. I told her today that I had changed my life trajectory and that any kind of sex with me was just never going to happen. I should be more emotional about it, but I had nothing. I feel like maybe other people are finally seeing how broken I am. I told my therapist I wasn't well. She asked what would help me feel well. If I knew that answer, I maybe would have made steps to fix some of the crap in my life. I don't expect my therapist to fix me... I only give her part of the picture. I get from her what I need. I don't let her know my black.

When I was in Jr. High, I started cutting. It's something I have done periodically. I had a friend, I'll call Alex. Alex was not my friend, but I thought maybe we were. We had depression in common and that doesn't make for a good foundation. I cried. That was my Picasso Black period. I moved away after that school year. I heard from someone I knew that Alex was dead. I was happy for Alex... finally figuring out the combination to close the door. I only recently found out that the person that told me Alex died, was wrong... now that's a mind fuck. Lives in Hawaii, from what I can tell. It still weirds me out when I think about it. Alex is alive... and I was so happy for their pain to be released... it apparently never did.