Post from November 2nd

Wow.  I finally found a way to write on my own computer!  I am really tired and really really really (really) sad.  The annoyance factor of trying to find a way to write this probably added a few minutes to my life, though.  It’s November 2nd, 2014.  I am Anne, and I am trying to decide if I should live or not.  I had a lot more to say than that, but it’s gone now.

More in a bit.

(later) Everything smells like rice cakes right now.  Yes, it’s true.  I know it’s weird, but that is always what you will get from me.  Once again, I am trying to be alive.  Sometimes I  stop not wanting to be alive.  Those moments are getting a bit sparse.  It’s still November 2nd, but a whole day has gone by.  I  started this entry in the wee hours, and apparently I’m finishing it with the last of the clock on this day.  I am so tired.  I mean, I’m tired because it’s time to be tired, but man, I just want to sleep and… yeah.  Not wake up.  It’s the thing.  I’m not quite suicidal, not really, but my words would be alarming to most people.  I’m sort of planning to die.  Which is kind of hilarious, since that’s what we all do – we die.  If nothing else, that’s what happens.  My scenario would be to hike up Mt. Washington and wander off the path, and just wait for the weather to take care of me.  I could still do that, and maybe I will.  I’ll have to stay in shape, though – that’s not exactly an easy suicide plan.  So, yeah.  There really isn’t anyone I can talk to about this.  Not without causing huge alarm bells, and man, I do not want those.  Carting me away and locking me up would only delay whatever is inevitable.  Crazy needs to be contained, I suppose.  We are theoretically a civilized society.  And I do NOT want to be in its hands.  Society is a dumb, dumb beast.  Necessary, very much so, but leave me out of it on the whole.

I wish I had access to the internet right now.  I don’t have the password to the wifi, though.  I know, first world problems.  And maybe it’s good that I don’t have access.  I tend to obsess about the man in my life, and that’s not healthy at all.  I wish things could just be…. I don’t know… nice.  Why can’t things just be nice?  Why does everything have to be so brutal and so fucking sad?  And even as I’m saying that, I know it’s not ALL brutal and sad, but damn, it’s close.  What do you do with your life when you don’t really know what to do with it anymore?  Keep on keeping on.  Bleah.  I am very sick of that sentiment, and I am not happy with the alternatives.  But again, I am faced with two choices – you live or you die.  And you always die.  So…. why not sooner than later?  What in the fuck is this all about?  I mean, not to coin a phrase, but – dude, seriously?

See, here – I am in love with this man.  He seems to love me, but I’m never sure, because I have a history of being bad with men and having a father who also lacks in wanting to live.  Which makes me uncertain of any sort of affection.  And this society, being the asshole that it is, is a monument to youth and beauty.  I don’t have those things in spades anymore…. and yet I still feel the same way I always have.  I’m me.  You should love me even if I”m not an 18 year old dimwit who puts her tits out there on the internet.  And that?  That is what my man loves.  Probably what all men love.  Which makes me want to punch the universe in the face.  Again… I think he loves me.  I think.

So, meh.  That is what I have to offer right now.  I really am tired, so I suppose I should sign off.  Maybe I will figure out how to get these words online.   Yep.

And one last thought – you can always walk up to the brink and look in.  You don’t have to jump, but it’s there, and sometimes it’s comforting to have it there.  I don’t know how other people feel.  I alternately want to dive in and on the other hand beat the desire to die to death.  There is probably irony in there somewhere.  In some convoluted fashion.  No one can tell me what to do, not really.  And my life will run out like a pen does – a bit sketchy towards the end, but inevitably failing.  So… what?

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