Not A Suicide NotePublished September 22, 2022
These words were written a while ago.
I suddenly feel a great sense of sadness and loss. I don't know why. The weather is horrible. It's been hot lately. Too hot. Too hot for England. It's not too hot today, but not cold. It's the questionable heat after a thunderstorm, which happened earlier. I have a tower fan a few feet from my legs and they're being hit with a cool breeze. Too cool. Too cold. I don't like it. But when I turn the fan off I feel hot again. So I'll keep it on.
I am procrastinating. That's why I'm writing this. Better than Netflix, or jerking off. It's something productive. Some work. Some thing. Some thing to add to the list of things I've created in life.
I should be finishing an episode of BRAD NICHOLLS Podcast now. But the episode is horrible. Horrible because I want to finish it, there are some great things about it, but the current edit just isn't it. And, I can't seem to fucking make it work the way I want now.
All of this is annoying, but even more annoying because it has been several days of this.
Some times I get stuck, here I am stuck.
I watched one of the greatest films ever made last night. The Vanishing. It was so beautiful I almost cried. The entire film was almost perfect, there was only a handful of things that I will change, I say will because I am going to edit the thing, I am going to perfect it. It was such a natural film. Special.
I feel very sad. I ate some cheap ice cream before writing this, it was the only sweet food about. Now I have a pain in my neck, on the right. I don't think these things are connected. I'm in the mood to fuck or burn down a police station or marry a tranny in an airless desert, illuminated by giant spotlights. Oh well, I'm sad tonight, I'm sure it will go away.
A few weeks ago my cousins son died. He was six years old.
We live in a universe where that can happen. And does. And did.
The cruelty is very extreme. He was first diagnosed at the age of four. At that age, four years old, you are a person, you have a personality, an identity, you have thoughts and feelings and even dreams. What a universe of cruelty.
Death gets us all eventually, for now anyway.
I wonder what kind of world it would be if human beings didn't have that thing inside them that deep down cannot ever accept that reality...
'Me? Die? No, can't be doing that, I have bitches to fuck and police stations to burn and trannies to marry, far too busy for that.'
Death is peace.
It seems that way. What ever lies beyond. I think it's peace. Peace for a long long long time. Before somewhere, somehow, our consciousness fires back up and takes on a new being.
I would never kill myself though. If the peace is coming eventually, might as well enjoy whatever the fuck this is and more importantly PLAY with it. Even if it involves so much mental and physical pain.
I have been saying to myself lately, 'I'm going to kill myself tomorrow' but it's not real, it's not me saying it. I suspect as my fight against intrusive thoughts and OCD has now reached a successfull victory, new, more foreign thoughts have tried to fill the void. It's cute. I'll kill them too.
What freedom it must be to resolve to die. To pick a date and know. That's lights out.
If I were to die now, I would be most happy that I never danced to anyone else's tune. I danced to my own songs. I can say that. I saw the world too and I created things and I did things.
I don't think I'll sleep tonight. I'll stay up. Not unusual for me. I do have a rare sleep disorder. Correcting my sleep schedule like this is a bi-monthly occurrence.
Here are some more individual sentences...
It's a great contradiction - I both love anonymity and yet have the need for immortal glory.
So much of what I've done is all for me. Secrets. And they will be my ultimate fuck you to the human world. My secrets.
I remember the air, the steel, the friendship, the wild west, here it still felt wild.
I think I could be gay if I really tried very hard.
There are so many people in this world who advanced humanity significantly and never got a lick of attention, or just a little, tiny, weak lick, a piss lick. Guess, that fucking sucks.
When the world is against you, and yet you know what you're doing is right. And as it slashes and burns all those humans laws and rules and lies. Nature smiles.
I don't know if anybody will read this. Analytics and things say people do read what I write. But who knows. I don't care. I wrote it and I read it. It's the same with everything I create. I create it for myself.
Live your life for the kid inside you. They're the only one you need to make proud.
I love writing.