Because I ......Want you Because I...... need you Where are you? I hate myself without

Because I ......Want you

Because I...... need you

Where are you?

I hate myself without you; I hate myself for waiting for you... especially now that I’m beyond any saving.

Do you enjoy watching me crawl while I wait my turn? How many are there before me? When will you get done with me?

...

I am broken

I am broken... sounds cliché, but I can’t fix myself, every time I try I just keep ruing it more and hurting myself... I can’t even seem to get rid of myself either... because there is one stupid tingle of hope that you will show up. I know you won’t.

I focus on my pain intentionally and intensely, because the truth is... if I think of anything else I just notice your absence... you are not here. How can I get over this if you are not there stretching your arm and take me out of the mud hole. How can I move on, without you to hold my hand along the way?

"I", "I", "I", almost all my sentences start with "I"... because you are not here for them to start with "YOU"...

How can you do this to me? How can you leave me here... to get wasted... to get ruined... to rot…

(2 day late)

Tribal Scars in technicolor

Kevin Carter

Hi time magazine, hi Pulitzer Prize 
tribal scars in technicolor 
"Bang Bang Club" AK 47 hour 

kevin Carter 

Hi time magazine, hi Pulitzer Prize 
vulture stalked white piped lie forever 
wasted your life in black and white 

kevin Carter 
kevin Carter 
kevin Carter 

kevin Carter 
kevin Carter 
kevin Carter
Kevin Carter

The elephant is so ugly 
he sleeps his head machetes his bed 
kevin Carter kaffir* lover forever 

Click click click click click… himself under 

kevin Carter 
kevin Carter 
Kevin Carter

I received another message today that said: "just BE happy"

I received another message today that said:  "just BE happy" yup, just like that… it is a bit like telling someone with cancer "just cure yourself", he tells me to go out to the world, and to just be happy... 

This is irritating for a number of reasons.

One, I have to constantly explain to him or whoever says it tome, how sucky my life is and the pathetic personality I have that gets in the way of everything that’s good and worthwhile in this world. 

Two, I’m afraid to try alone... and learn to be happy alone and stay alone forever...

I met Joshua... I’ve had a crave for this name since I went to England years ago. It was the name of one of my roommates, he was blonde and gorgeous, and I was never brave enough to talk to him... last time I saw him he was shirtless in the beach. Ten years later comes another Joshua ... Him I was brave enough to talk to, well he reached me first for some reason, but unlike the 1st he I will probably never actually meet.

I sometimes treat him, like I did Obsidian back in school, and I enjoy it the same way, he is also, like Elektra in some ways, when we get passionate discussing... I don’t remember being so passionate online with anyone else beside him and Elektra... 

He is also very different to anyone I’ve met in many ways... he speaks like the kind of person I always wanted to talk to, he actually speaks so beautifully, that I can’t seem to get myself together and talk back... and I can talk a lot, I study social communications for crying out loud...

He is however reckless when he speaks and acts, which I find at the same time repulsive and attractive... I can’t really seem to grasp he is so young or that I’m actually this old... talking to him makes me wonder what the fuck did I do in my teens? Where did they go?

But today I did something so stupid, there is this really hot, really smart, girl in my Ethics class... she talked to me!!! And I talked back... and we actually got along!!! Amazed I was, I stated trying to well... make myself interesting... and yes... I screwed up... I was going to say it was nightmare to be bi... but when I thought in my mind, the word bisexual sounded so... ugh pathetic... and I actually said I was ameinian!!! Now of course... Lost all chances of being with this cute, really hot smart girl (completely out of my league) and messed it up again by speaking of guys.... I just hate myself....

(13 days late)

Having a bad day, week, year, decade, or entire life?

Having a bad day, week, year, decade, or entire life?

The Layman's Guide to Suicide is the last self-help book you'll ever need!

 

Suicide by cop

 "To the officer who shot me.

Official.

This was a plan. I'm sorry to have involved you. I only needed it to die. Please remember that I did all this, you had no way of knowing.

 - Moshe Pergament. "

In 1997, a 19 year old used a fake gun to lure police into getting shot. Becouse cops shooting people is so certain you can count on them to assist on your suicide. 

https://www.nytimes.com/1997/11/16/nyregion/officers-k

All it takes is one bad date...

All it takes is one bad date... 

Unless you are me, then you need two.

Tonight I’m going to cry, not just yet, because I’m filled with anger first. And not the type of anger that makes you wants to yell and course everyone you know. I’m filled with type of anger that requires to be denounced, that feels me with energy to write this words. Today I saw the things I hate most about myself and about others. Insecurity, lack of character, lies, disrespect, lack of communication, ugliness, both physically and personality wise... I saw everything that wrong with me and my world.

I don’t want to see you again, ever, you hurt me, and you will die alone, I got myself vulnerable to you, and you, and you made me feel, embarrassed about who I was, about what I believe... and what’s worse, I let you do it to me twice.

You are faggot, and mean this in the very and most insulting way, and for that I hate you, because you made me feel bad about being who I am, you represent everything that wrong in the ameinian community... you are, a cliché! The worst kind, you make me kitsch, void, useless... I’m an idiot, and you proved me right. 

You shouted to a 10 year old girl! What kind of person does that? You had me 15 minutes dragging after you in search of cab... I hate myself, for being with you, I hate myself for even doubting if it was my fault you are so week... I’m angry, so angry, so disappointed, so filled with contempt... I hate you, not more than I hate myself...but I do... I’m so filled with... hate... I couldn’t help but laugh all the time at our situation, and I know it bothered you I didn’t say what I was laughing about... I was laughing about us, our pathetic situation, you not knowing the jerk you are, and me putting up with it, when I know I deserve better even if I die a virgin... which I am still... and I’m so proud about it, because losing it to you would have been too degrading, I would have had to killed you and shoot myself then.

(17 days late)

Woe, woe, woe...

 Woe, woe, woe... in a little while we shall all be dead. Therefore let us behave as though we were dead already.

- Raymond Chandler

There’s no reason to live, but there’s no reason to die, either.

“There’s no reason to live, but there’s no reason to die, either. The only way we can still show our contempt for life is to accept it. Life is not worth the bother of leaving it. Out of charity, one might spare a few individuals the trouble of living, but what about oneself? Despair, indifference, betrayal, fidelity, solitude, the family, freedom, weight, money, poverty, love, absence of love, syphilis, health, sleep, insomnia, desire, impotence, platitudes, art, honesty, dishonor, mediocrity, intelligence – nothing there to make a fuss about. We know only too well what those things are made of, no point in watching for them.”

“God is growing bitter, He envies man his mortality.”

— Jacques Rigaut

I’m considering suicide

I’m considering suicide, not as an escape, not as an adventure, not even as a relief, just as an option like going to class tomorrow or choosing to take the bus or a cab. I’m actually surprised at this now I recall it, other times I had seen it as grand finale, this time was just an option it wasn’t dramatic, it was just something I could do.

People are still shocked when they realize how deeply I loathe myself. I guess they don’t understand it... if it’s hard living with someone you hate; it’s even harder to live being someone you hate.

I keep wishing people would someway analyze me and somehow fix me.... but that isn’t going to happen. 

There is a word in Spanish, I have not yet managed to translate to English: "pudor". It refers to a virtue. The virtue of protecting ones intimacy, spiritual, emotional and physical, and sharing it only with those who are close to us... keeping information about ourselves secret, sometimes through shame, but not always because it’s shameful but because its sacred.

Therefore, someone who shares too much, like me here, lacks this virtue, meaning he does not value the person he/she is. Exposing without any restraints who we are to anyone who passes by with no kind of protection or care… is definitely someone who does not treasure anything inside him worth protecting or saving.

It’s been over 5 years and I still can’t re-read whatever I write in this stupid journal. Because I hate every single word of it... I can’t stand any of these thoughts or feelings...  this is why grammar and syntax suck and that’s why typos blossom...

The truth is I know all this, I’ve analyzed myself in and out all my life... sometimes I feel that there’s actually two "versions of me struggling (if not more) and I find myself asking "what are you going to do?", "why do you hate me so much?"

 Sometimes I’m close to believe I can actually slip... and lose my mind... so I don’t allow myself to answer any of those questions... nor think of who is it that’s really asking them.

(11 days late)

Parting as descent

 Parting as descent 

John Berryman (EEUU, 1914-1972)

They sun rushed up the sky; the taxi flew;
There was a kind of fever on the clock
That morning. We arrived at Waterloo
With time to spare and couldn't find my track.

The bitter coffee in a small cafe
Gave us our conversation. When the train
Began to move, I saw you turn away
And vanish, and the vessels in my brain

Burst, the train roared, the other travellers
In flames leapt, burning on the tilted air
Che si cruccia, I heard the devils curse
And shriek with joy in the place beyond prayer.

On January 7, 1972, John Berryman, poet, fell into the void of death when he launched himself from a bridge over in Minneapolis. With such a death Berryman was perhaps no more than continuing a family tradition started by his father who also voluntarily agreed to death.

I keep searching

My emotional support system has resided in sporadic kind words from strangers who assure me I do have something. Only the people whom I’ve called "friends" (more out of desperation than from real sense of friendship) have told me I’m really not going to make it, and if I do, it will take me years and years.

I know have no serious expectations from publishing anything in the next 5 to 10 years. Actually the thought that I will die without ever seeing my work "out" is even more persistent. I’m haunted by this thought that my work will be meaningless while I live. Even when I think of the moment I finish my book... I think, I must die after or otherwise it will all be just pointless.

I guess, what I’m really hoping is for someone to tell me, that I’m terribly wrong, that I made mistake, a terrible mistake... that writing was not my thing, but to do something else, something I’m truly great at and I just haven’t realized!

I’m back waiting for a savior… 

(31 days late)

The day we rise or fall

 

Through early morning fog I see

visions of the things to be

the pains that are withheld for me

I realize and I can see...

That suicide is painless

it brings on many changes

and I can take or leave it if I please.I try to find a way to make

all our little joys relate

without that ever-present hate

but now I know that it's to late, and...

The game of life is hard to play

I'm going to lose it anyway

the losing card I'll someday lay

so this is all I have to say

The only way to win is cheat

and lay it down before I'm beat

and to another give my seat

for that's the only painless feat

The sword of time will pierce our skins

it doesn't hurt when it begins

but as it works its way on in

the pain grows stronger...watch it grin but...

A brave man once requested me

to answer questions that are key

is it to be or not to be

and I replied 'oh why ask me?''

Cause suicide is painless

it brings on many changes

and I can take or leave it if I please...

and you can do the same thing if you please.

Lyrics by Nick Drake.

All and all, I’m tired of asking questions...

All and all, I’m tired of asking questions... always, the same questions over and over again. Questions that wear out the soul... stain it.

Why do I hate myself so much? When will it end? Will I die tomorrow? What should I do next? Why can’t I do what I want to do? Why am I not happy? Where am I? Is this the right choice? Where did all go wrong? How could I have made a difference? What if I was someone else? Who am I? How did I let myself fail?

I now see failure not as a persistent fear, not as threatening menace... but as the bleak reality. 

THIS IS IT.

How do you react to failure... well most people will say, you should learn form you mistakes and start over again till you do it right. 

I don’t think I can start over again... and believe me I find myself now staring at the ceiling for hours at a time thinking how would I have lived in a better way, and how I’d give to go back and do it all over again.

Wasteful thoughts indeed.

Now I find myself writing this journal, almost convinced that this will be the only thing I’ll ever write.

This dear reader. Is a story of failing, the story people are too afraid to tell, the story people hate to hear. The story a loser, a depressive freak... my story. The story of accomplishing nothing, losing friends and alienating people.

(4 days late)