This morning when i woke up. i felt a lot like suicide. But in the dreams i had lastnight i was doing things i thought were fun. Until i woke up right before i got high. And the beer i had for breakfast was really dark black coffee, and it was disapointing. And i feel like dying. it’s probably because, i am dying. And no, it doesn’t make me feel like crying.
I took my dog for a walk and he was moving really slow, he looked like he was in a lot of pain so i slowed my steps so he could keep up. I walked by my old friend boggs’ house, but didn’t stop to say hello because he’s mad at me again. And as usuaual, i don’t know why. I don’t ask these sort of things, but he gives the silent treatment better than my mother. and no, i don’t know why. and no, i don’t ask why. and i feel like i’m doing. it’s probably because, i am dying. And no, it doesn’t make me feel like crying.
I got home and my cravings where making me insane, so i organized and cleaned until i wiped away the daze. When i get into the moods, i feel like the entire world is one big haze. So moved everything to it’s place while hearing pandora radio, and wondered how long it would be before winter came and it would snow. I pulled all the books down from the shelf, and put them back where they belong. My OCD is moving in, but at least it’s not a sin. And i feel i’m dying. And it’s probably because, i am dying. And no, it doesn’t make my feel like crying.
So i Put away all my clothes and finished all the laundry. I found my old light bright and on it i spelled “death.” in rainbow lettering. When my father came home and found me, he said “Dear, you look like a mess.” And i said “why yes father, i am because today my heart feels heavy and my soul feels extra old. and instead of feeling like diamonds. I feel just like coal.” But i guess that that’s okay because coal still has a use. But the heat that i’m producing is starting to feel like a noose. And i feel like i’m dying. It’s probably because, i am dying. And no it doesn’t make me feel like crying.
And then i layed down on the floor and stared at the blank ceiling. Sometimes it makes me feel better, but today it reminds me of the cloudy sky. At night i stare at stars and find myself asking a lot of rhetorical questions that end in why? i wonder where people go when they die. when they’re in purgatory can their eyes still cry? i wonder how and where my mom will die. and i swear i’ll lose my shit if one more person dies. Because i feel like i’m dying. And it’s probably because, i am dying. And no, it doesn’t make me feel like crying.
When i sit and stare and space out i create memories of distant pasts. I don’t daydream ever, but sometimes i feel like my life is a daymare. It makes me want to run around and swign my arms, pulling and tugging at my hair. I’ve been told before i get this way because of the way i care. I’m starting to think that my heart is too big for this world. But most of the time i seem to not care much for the world. But i’ve gotten good at feeling bad and that’s why i’m still here. And yes, i am dying. But no, it doesn’t make me feel like crying.
this was a blog i wrote last week on mycrack.