I heard from my best friend for the first time since we stopped living together.

I'm crying because whatever depression I've been wading through, he has too.

The difference being he didn't destroy his life.  He salvaged it.  He got help.

I don't know if I've been punishing myself for driving him away or what, but hearing from him has taken a weight off my mind.

He sounded good from the message, although still struggling.

I can't decide if I want to respond or run away and kill myself.

I don't know what the fuck I've been doing.

I've been draining Natasha dry and ruining her life instead of ending my own.

If it weren't for her kindness, who knows where I'd be.

I sent my mom an e-mail a few weeks ago asking for help and I haven't heard back from her.

I've day dreamed of going to my dad's house to talk to him about what I've been going through, but I haven't been brave enough.


Reading my friend's account of his courageous attempt to defeat the demon of depression gives me perpsective as to how wrongly I've been dealing with my own.


I need everything to change, before I'm on the street for good, unable to do anything about this mess.

With no eyes on you

you fell.

No one saw the disgrace,

but disgraced you were.

Disgrace, I am.

A long time ago I wrote out answers to your questions from the last entry, but I guess I closed the window before publishing it so I never bothered writing it all out again.

I think it is ironic that in my search for meaning, I've arrived at a near unchangeable position that I am meaningless.

I am the shadow, praying the light stays away as it would negate me.


I felt like I tried at life and failed.  There was and is no backup plan.  No recourse.

The last corner you'll be forced into is your grave.

But I lost the belief that I can be anything but a drain. 

Sometimes I still have hope, but I lose it shortly thereafter. 

I know I'll read these words soon and regret them.  I seem to regret everything I do shortly after doing it.

In the past year or two it's difficult to remember a good thing I've done.

I want the sucking to be over, but it's all I know how to do.

The song that made me feel today is Stabbing Westward - Goodbye.

I loved your son for his sturdy arms?
We both learned to cradle then live without

Oh oh oh oh
live without.


Iron & Wine - I still like them. 


Of all the past activities I have fallen out of love with...

I am rambling.

Terrific.

I'm writing here because I don't care anymore.

I wanted to write something, so here it goes.


Suicide Note:

If ever there was someone more deserving to write down their last thoughts and disappear into the void of one-way crossing known as the valley of death, I didn't know them.

I wonder if I'm feeling now how my uncle felt when he took his own life.

I wonder if I'm anything like him, or if his loss was true & heartfelt
whereas mine will be more of a good thing than a negative.

A life led wastefully, largely ineffectively, negatively impacting most if not everyone I know
finally coming to an end, however that end is met, has to be a final act of good - an act of contrition to the manner in which that life was lived.

I expect it in my obituary, "The only good that came from this life was that it ended."

I expect it, but it doesn't come.

Pray for courage, pray for fortitude so that I might finally understand something closer to what I've always been missing.

I don't think I'm a fan of this new layout.

Maybe it'll grow on me.

Maybe I should get my act together.

All day I think about how I'm still alive
why I'm here
and why I am so lost & afraid.

I think about giving up half the time and I'm purely disgusted the other half.

I wish it were all disgust, then I might do something about it.

Then I might do something about it.
Then I should do something about it.

2:59 am.

No results.