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 f****** 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 f*** 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 f*** 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.
F*** this life. Not even money for drugs or alcohol to numb this hell away.
