cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLOW MY FUCKING BRAINS OUT Oh, man, I want to live. I want to live. I want to do many things. I want spend six months in Africa and watch plays and go to art openings and see what's happening in secondary cities in Kenya. I want to spend a month in Beirut, going to shows and drinking in what's happening right now, right there. I want to live. To do that, I need to live right now. I need a way to stay alive right now. I don't have that. I'm running out of oxygen. I don't want to keep suffering. I just need some kind of future where I matter enough for someone to keep me breathing. I want to exist. Oh fuck, how I want to exist. But I keep careening towards July 29th, the date when I'm going to kill myself if this doesn't get better first. And I'm more committed with every day that I get closer, but I'm terrified of what that day will really be. How will I take the fentanyl? I don't think I have to inject it. I can put it in my mouth or something. I definitely don't want to risk killing the EMTs who come to collect my body. I am going to kill myself. That's not a promise, it's an educated prediction. I am going to kill myself. If I can't get a salaried job by July 29th, I am going to kill myself. I will be dead on 7/29/2018 unless things get better. There's an end in sight. I don't have to keep existing. I feel so much better just typing that. I am going to kill myself on July 29th and then I don't have to exist anymore. I don't want to be here anymore unless someone is willing to pay me a salary to do this. Please kill me. Kill me. Kill me. JUST FUCKING KILL ME. I DON'T WANT TO EXIST ANY MORE. BLOW MY FUCKING BRAINS OUT. KILL ME. 2:31 a.m. - 2018-05-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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