I hope tomorrow is better.

July 5, 2019

I want to die. I took two Klonopin this afternoon. Then five more a couple hours later. Then two more Klonopin just now. I can’t sleep. Not even tired. You’d think I’d be comatose. Two more Klonopin again just now.

I want to get drunk so bad I can hardly stand it.

I want to get fucked so bad I can hardly stand it.

I want to gamble so bad I can hardly stand it.

I want to leave this house so bad I can hardly stand it.

I hate myself so much I can hardly stand it.

Two more Klonopin.

Just two more? I forget at this point.

I want my heart to stop. I don’t want to wake tomorrow.

It got bad fast this time. It was slow then it happened all of a sudden.

And I have no desire to stop the insane behavior.

I want to die.

I have to live. I have no choice. My mother’s life depends on me living.

Fucking heavy shit. Fuck.

I wonder what it feels like to have Suicide not live in the dark dank terrifying regions of your brain, and make himself known so unexpectedly. More infrequently these days, most certainly. But he’s still always there. He is made strong through my lack of faith, hope, and self-confidence. Those are not traits of which I have a fast hold. I fight for those qualities. And sometimes fighting seems bigger than what I can do. Like right this moment.

I hope tomorrow is better.