I need to get a haircut. One of my friends dad has a salon in his basement were he makes a living. I am growing apart from this friend, and I am anxious to see him again. I have a good relationship with the dad, but the relationship with the friend is fleeting. I don't want to loose another friend, I have to few. But i just don't enjoy time spent with him anymore, he isn't the person I formed a friendship with in the past. Maybe the same could be said for me. I need money for the trip, and the dad offered to pay me to clean his tools in the garage, it is cold out these times of year, but nothing a good jacket and mitts can help with. I might just go in, get the haircut, clean the tools, and leave. I don't have enough energy to see my friend.
I have to get a haircut to look good for a date. I don't know if that is the right terminology, since we are not dating. We dated for a couple months a year ago in a hospital. we where awkward, and the most physical thing we did is her giving me a kiss on the cheek (good memories) We broke up on good terms. well technically she broke up with me, but there wasn't much of a relationship beyond friends to begin with. I asked her why when we got back in contact. apparently she was unsure about the whole thing because one of my quote un-quote ''''''''''friends''''''''''''''''''''''' said I raped him when he spent a night over at my place. This was news. I didn't hear a single thing about this until three days ago, but there where some signs. He was pretty avoident afterwards, which I had no idea why, I thought I did somthing stupid like I always do. And the staff had a bit too much of an interest in use getting together. I told them what happened. on our way back, I took him to a 4*4 spot drove through some mud, and let him drive around a bit since he never drove a car before. We got something to eat, played video games for the night. He passed out while I was on youtube, then I went to bed.
Honestly, I don't really care. He must have been pretty messed up to say that happened, and he was literally in a mental hospital with me. It didn't affect me except with the breakup, which I was planing to do anyways. She said she didn't believe him, but just didn't want to be a prat of it. I don't blame her. We didn't talk much after we broke up, but we caught up every now and then, and everything seemed fine. we lost contact after the school year ended until just recently.
She sent me a message a day ago asking what time was best. I saw the message, and hesitated to text back. I wasn't doing to good when I got the message, and wasn't feeling any better until 12am about five hours ago. I replied with the times, but also a kind of warning. I told her I wasn't doing to well recently, and If I got worse before wensday, I could go silent. I still had intention of meeting up, and I most likely will, but there is that possibility.
It is the truth, I have been steadily declining for the past week, and things could get worse, and if they do i might to silent. I was worried about if I did. I didn't want her to think I ditched not because I am an ass, but because she might have thought she was the reason as to why. She already has low self confidence, that I don't want to do her any damage if I go meltdown. It is still five in the morning, but I am waiting anxiously for a reply.
I wasn't doing to good mentally this morning. Im still not feeling myself, but I am better. in the past, if I woke up depressed it was normally when I was at my lowest point. I am far from it, but pretty far down the hole. it is a very deep hole I can fall down into. as soon as I lower myself an inch from the top, Im suicidal in some way. I have been suicidal since I was eight. My first attempt, I ate those little bags of silicon beads that came in purses and jackets. I ate three I think. It says don't eat in big wording, and says poinsoness. in reality, they are almost harmless. throughout my life I have tried to poison myself with lead pellets from scouts, and one time bleach mixed with juice (still didn't taste good, what a surprise). first major attempt was in grade twelve, followed by a few more. At this point, I am not afraid of it anymore. If I could die right now, it would be with a smile on my face. skiing, biking, engineering, building, my acreage, this huge future full of possibilities and happiness, I would have no problem throwing away at any moment (Im not allowed to go hunting anymore.) One thing is still there that makes me think twice. I want to write a book. I have been stewing and refining this idea in my head for half a year, and I got something good. It is beyond my own personal satisfaction. It would be a waist for my ideas to go unwritten after so much time making the story.
part of me wants it to fade into nothingness, so I can KMS in peace without any thought pulling me back, but it is the one and only thing that keeps my mind clung to life. On it's own, it is a thin wall against the tidal forces of my depression. It won't stop anything if my mind decides it is time. Maybe it will hold, who knows?
to close off, I just want to share a thought. It is delving in the realms of madness, but maybe Im not mad, and it is the truth. When I thought of this. I was monologuing, pretending to talk to my therapist. I do this a lot, it may sound a bit crazy, but in doing it over and over gave me one of my most invaluable skills, translating thoughts to speech. It is harder than is sounds.
Who do you think I am? Just another person who you talk to as a part of your job? A broken mind, shattered into puzzle peices for you to solve? Another crazy person it is your job to talk to? most likely not what I expressed exactly. You may thing of me as a unique individual, different than everyone else, and everyone else likewise. As humans, we like to clump individuals into neat and orderly groups, if not conscious, then unconscious. It is drilled into our brains through millennia of evaluation to order people into groups to decide if they are a threat or not. I am not a threat, and you know that, but you still in some way organize me into a group. Do you see me as a crazy person? A person who can barely keep himself from killing himself, full of delusions spawned from years of depression, meltdowns, and anger? Maybe. At some level, because I keep coming back week after week with a new unsolvable problem, you see me as crazy. What if I am right? What if the thoughts, observations and feelings that drive me into depressive insanity are telling the truth. What if, you are the crazy person for not seeing the reality of the world that I see?
I think a lot, it is what I do. A new thought pops up into my head and I explore every aspect of it, wether the thought is good or bad. I can see the flaws in my own thinking when exploring presumptions and sporadic random thoughts that pop up. I know that a lot of the time, these thoughts are mostly wrong. What is left to the things I can't prove wrong? They are just there, unsolvable problems, uncomfortable truths, truths, that most people don't see, and if they do, don't accept.
The world is a machine. Money feed this machine, it demands as much fuel as possible. Everywhere you look, is a product of profit, everything you interact with, is a product of profit, your job, and all the work you do, is there because it makes someone else money. The system demands as much money as possible, they make it off of us. I don't want to make someone else money, while I get so little for my time. call me greedy if you want, but if everyone didn't accept what is given to them as enough, then we wouldn't have this problem. I have a problem with spending eight hours a day to earn just enough to pay for a house, car, internet, utilities, and if i'm lucky, a few bucks to spend at the bar to froget about my day and the next. All the money we make goes right back into others pockets. so much work, so much effort, so much stress, so much boardom, so much ********, so much anger, so much self sacrifice, so much sadness, so much uncertainty, so much compliance, so much time. For what, a company that doesn't give two shits about you? for a few bucks an hour?
You look at me like i'm crazy that I don't want to live in this world. Everyone I see around me are slaves to this system. Manipulated to divert their anger towards eachother while they pull the stings and take away our power. Im not crazy, i'm not. This is happening, the world is reaching a boiling point, I don't know what will happen exactly, but I am sure of one thing. There will be profit, and not for us.
I don't accept this world, because it doesn't offer me enough. There is only one escape from the system.
The problems are not within me. The problems are within the world, out of my control, out of your control, but not out of everyones control. Don't accept this reality, stop turning a blind eye to the injustices set upon you, because before you notice, you will start to notice. It will be to late then, and I will be laughing in my grave as you idiots have to deal with the horrible situation you put yourself's in because you where to preoccupied with Kim kardashian's face lift, or outraged by the evil neo-nazis. I am tempted to live, just to gleefully watch this world go to **** with a drink in one hand, and a gun with a single bullet on my table. it might be cold that day, but I will be able to warm my hands over the fires of this burning world.
Wow... that got depressing kind of fast. Sorry for leaving on a bad note
of corse, some Calvin and Hobbes to end things off
I have to get a haircut to look good for a date. I don't know if that is the right terminology, since we are not dating. We dated for a couple months a year ago in a hospital. we where awkward, and the most physical thing we did is her giving me a kiss on the cheek (good memories) We broke up on good terms. well technically she broke up with me, but there wasn't much of a relationship beyond friends to begin with. I asked her why when we got back in contact. apparently she was unsure about the whole thing because one of my quote un-quote ''''''''''friends''''''''''''''''''''''' said I raped him when he spent a night over at my place. This was news. I didn't hear a single thing about this until three days ago, but there where some signs. He was pretty avoident afterwards, which I had no idea why, I thought I did somthing stupid like I always do. And the staff had a bit too much of an interest in use getting together. I told them what happened. on our way back, I took him to a 4*4 spot drove through some mud, and let him drive around a bit since he never drove a car before. We got something to eat, played video games for the night. He passed out while I was on youtube, then I went to bed.
Honestly, I don't really care. He must have been pretty messed up to say that happened, and he was literally in a mental hospital with me. It didn't affect me except with the breakup, which I was planing to do anyways. She said she didn't believe him, but just didn't want to be a prat of it. I don't blame her. We didn't talk much after we broke up, but we caught up every now and then, and everything seemed fine. we lost contact after the school year ended until just recently.
She sent me a message a day ago asking what time was best. I saw the message, and hesitated to text back. I wasn't doing to good when I got the message, and wasn't feeling any better until 12am about five hours ago. I replied with the times, but also a kind of warning. I told her I wasn't doing to well recently, and If I got worse before wensday, I could go silent. I still had intention of meeting up, and I most likely will, but there is that possibility.
It is the truth, I have been steadily declining for the past week, and things could get worse, and if they do i might to silent. I was worried about if I did. I didn't want her to think I ditched not because I am an ass, but because she might have thought she was the reason as to why. She already has low self confidence, that I don't want to do her any damage if I go meltdown. It is still five in the morning, but I am waiting anxiously for a reply.
I wasn't doing to good mentally this morning. Im still not feeling myself, but I am better. in the past, if I woke up depressed it was normally when I was at my lowest point. I am far from it, but pretty far down the hole. it is a very deep hole I can fall down into. as soon as I lower myself an inch from the top, Im suicidal in some way. I have been suicidal since I was eight. My first attempt, I ate those little bags of silicon beads that came in purses and jackets. I ate three I think. It says don't eat in big wording, and says poinsoness. in reality, they are almost harmless. throughout my life I have tried to poison myself with lead pellets from scouts, and one time bleach mixed with juice (still didn't taste good, what a surprise). first major attempt was in grade twelve, followed by a few more. At this point, I am not afraid of it anymore. If I could die right now, it would be with a smile on my face. skiing, biking, engineering, building, my acreage, this huge future full of possibilities and happiness, I would have no problem throwing away at any moment (Im not allowed to go hunting anymore.) One thing is still there that makes me think twice. I want to write a book. I have been stewing and refining this idea in my head for half a year, and I got something good. It is beyond my own personal satisfaction. It would be a waist for my ideas to go unwritten after so much time making the story.
part of me wants it to fade into nothingness, so I can KMS in peace without any thought pulling me back, but it is the one and only thing that keeps my mind clung to life. On it's own, it is a thin wall against the tidal forces of my depression. It won't stop anything if my mind decides it is time. Maybe it will hold, who knows?
to close off, I just want to share a thought. It is delving in the realms of madness, but maybe Im not mad, and it is the truth. When I thought of this. I was monologuing, pretending to talk to my therapist. I do this a lot, it may sound a bit crazy, but in doing it over and over gave me one of my most invaluable skills, translating thoughts to speech. It is harder than is sounds.
Who do you think I am? Just another person who you talk to as a part of your job? A broken mind, shattered into puzzle peices for you to solve? Another crazy person it is your job to talk to? most likely not what I expressed exactly. You may thing of me as a unique individual, different than everyone else, and everyone else likewise. As humans, we like to clump individuals into neat and orderly groups, if not conscious, then unconscious. It is drilled into our brains through millennia of evaluation to order people into groups to decide if they are a threat or not. I am not a threat, and you know that, but you still in some way organize me into a group. Do you see me as a crazy person? A person who can barely keep himself from killing himself, full of delusions spawned from years of depression, meltdowns, and anger? Maybe. At some level, because I keep coming back week after week with a new unsolvable problem, you see me as crazy. What if I am right? What if the thoughts, observations and feelings that drive me into depressive insanity are telling the truth. What if, you are the crazy person for not seeing the reality of the world that I see?
I think a lot, it is what I do. A new thought pops up into my head and I explore every aspect of it, wether the thought is good or bad. I can see the flaws in my own thinking when exploring presumptions and sporadic random thoughts that pop up. I know that a lot of the time, these thoughts are mostly wrong. What is left to the things I can't prove wrong? They are just there, unsolvable problems, uncomfortable truths, truths, that most people don't see, and if they do, don't accept.
The world is a machine. Money feed this machine, it demands as much fuel as possible. Everywhere you look, is a product of profit, everything you interact with, is a product of profit, your job, and all the work you do, is there because it makes someone else money. The system demands as much money as possible, they make it off of us. I don't want to make someone else money, while I get so little for my time. call me greedy if you want, but if everyone didn't accept what is given to them as enough, then we wouldn't have this problem. I have a problem with spending eight hours a day to earn just enough to pay for a house, car, internet, utilities, and if i'm lucky, a few bucks to spend at the bar to froget about my day and the next. All the money we make goes right back into others pockets. so much work, so much effort, so much stress, so much boardom, so much ********, so much anger, so much self sacrifice, so much sadness, so much uncertainty, so much compliance, so much time. For what, a company that doesn't give two shits about you? for a few bucks an hour?
You look at me like i'm crazy that I don't want to live in this world. Everyone I see around me are slaves to this system. Manipulated to divert their anger towards eachother while they pull the stings and take away our power. Im not crazy, i'm not. This is happening, the world is reaching a boiling point, I don't know what will happen exactly, but I am sure of one thing. There will be profit, and not for us.
I don't accept this world, because it doesn't offer me enough. There is only one escape from the system.
The problems are not within me. The problems are within the world, out of my control, out of your control, but not out of everyones control. Don't accept this reality, stop turning a blind eye to the injustices set upon you, because before you notice, you will start to notice. It will be to late then, and I will be laughing in my grave as you idiots have to deal with the horrible situation you put yourself's in because you where to preoccupied with Kim kardashian's face lift, or outraged by the evil neo-nazis. I am tempted to live, just to gleefully watch this world go to **** with a drink in one hand, and a gun with a single bullet on my table. it might be cold that day, but I will be able to warm my hands over the fires of this burning world.
Wow... that got depressing kind of fast. Sorry for leaving on a bad note
of corse, some Calvin and Hobbes to end things off
