Sorry Y’all in The Road Ahead

I’m inconsistent. I pledge to myself that I’m going to write more frequently, and I don’t. Wonderful, caring people note me and I take a week or more or just never get back to them. Friends message me occasionally via text or messenger and it’s the same thing.

I come in here, dump whatever stupid thoughts I’m having at the moment, and I check out. I appreciate those of you who reach out, and I never mean to worry you. I’m sorry for that.

For all the work and healing that’s gone on, I’m still sick. I still struggle to find value in myself, my deeds, my thoughts. I’m still living like I have an expiration date. My whole life I thought I’d be dead by 30, and granted, that still almost happened. If I hadn’t been hospitalized for my suicide plan, it’s very likely that would have come to fruition. But I was, and it put me on a path of healing.

Now I’m struggling to change my perspective and outlook, from sans-future to a potential one… But I don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. I don’t care about the long dead American Dream. I’m not interested in moving up any corporate ladders, don’t give a fuck about collecting material items, and I’ve never been interested in having a family. So what’s left? What lies outside the realm that just about everyone else is living in? I suppose I’m asking…what’s the point?

So my brain comes up with these wild ideas, like I’m worthless and the people I know would be better off without me there to disappoint them. I thought that I was over this, suicide ideation, but it’s again becoming a go to as a source of comfort.

It doesn’t matter if nobody wants me, I’m still in charge of how much pain I choose to endure.

It doesn’t matter that you’re a goofy looking fuck, because I’m going to be worm food one day anyways.

It doesn’t even really matter that I’m vegan.

None of this matters. So why am I delaying the inevitable?

Hopefully I find an answer sometime soon, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.

Last updated April 23, 2018