the walls say only they’ll keep me warm

wrote a paper on hinduism. not my best writing, but it’s done and handed in. i say that every time, not my best writing. i feel like i’ll know when i’ve hit peak.

we had gender jeopardy in class today, men against women, and we tied. no one missed any questions. i’m cool with that. it’s nice.

i didn’t sleep well last night. i was up late writing that stupid paper and couldn’t sleep after that. i dreamt about hindu gods and me, crying in a corner. ’twas weird.

i don’t know what to do. i say that a lot. i feel that a lot.

i called my psychiatrist’s office and hung up without making an appointment. there was an opening for may 18, but i don’t know if i can make it til then, so i just said i needed to think it over. i want to give up and give in so bad but i have too many people whose happiness hinges on my continued existence.

i think that’s why i resent love and hope and all the “good” things. i’m a quitter at heart, and things like them won’t let me quit. plus i just don’t think i deserve anything good deep down.

the hindus would probs believe the reason this life of mine is so miserable no matter what actually happens is that i was a terrible creature in a past life. it’s karma. written in fate. i just deserve this. but i’m not actually hindu soo i guess i cannot accurately describe what they believe with any sort of certainty.

have you ever felt like your entire world is tumbling down around you and you’re losing control of everything, the tenuous grip on sanity you had is slipping, but to everyone else you seem fine as all you do to show your despair is to laugh at your own morbid jokes?

it’s like, if they really loved me, they’d see through all the lies i tell them about how great i am doing.

i’m so sad though. talk about self absorbed: every time i think about suicide i make myself think about the ideal effect my death would have, people would be mourning and shit. so i get all sad thinking about it and i know i can’t do it then, but i get sadder and sadder thinking about my death. and it’s like why bother living when all you do is lay around in your spare time thinking about your own death and bawling. well not like literally all you do but almost, i swear.

 

some notes i have. some lively reflections:

we’re actually all just ants on this giant dirt clod. consoling ourselves with our designated tasks until death comes along, and we curl up and die. lol, does that mean all of the deities are actually sociopathic children with magnifying glasses?

yeah, no.

the words tumbled in my mind: a fluid effervescence a bubbling babbling presence. insanity take away my depression, i don’t see me in the reflection.

see, when the apocalypse takes most of humanity in its maw, we will have to revert back to relying mostly on oral tradition. i am mentally compiling memes so that we doomed few to survive the freakish hellhole that the planet shall become, we precious few shall have history…👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

 

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