Last night I was feeling suicidal, wrote what I thought could be my last message here. I’m sorry for the people who had to see it.
Then I randomly logged on facebook, 3am. There was one event invitation to a something really boring from a person I last saw years ago.
I fucking went. Didn’t sleep before it, arrived late, didn’t brush my teeth, I was a complete mess. Dude asked what I’ve been up to. I told him honestly I’ve been inside the four walls staring at the ceiling for the past year.
What the fuck did I have to lose? My pride? I don’t have pride left. I’m done. I just kinda wanted one last pathetic human interaction before dying. I was that desperate. I wanted to see someone who knew my name, no matter what they thought of me now.
I was shaking, sweating from anxiety, lights were too bright, I was so self-conscious about the fact that I’m absolute caveman and disgusting. I felt like I was gonna break down any minute.
“Anyway, thanks for invite. Cool art. I gotta go.”
I’m back home and I don’t know. I’m feeling still shaken. Can’t believe I had guts to go. Dunno. Maybe I just have to embrace hobo look. What the fuck does it matter what people think. If I smell too bad, they are free to kill me, I guess. What if I started to annoy people on the streets? Getting beat up is more human touch than I’ve got in years.
Fuck this life. Not even money for drugs or alcohol to numb this hell away.