cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- KILL ME. Frankly, I want to die. I am not reading the messages of people who are adding ideas based on them having enough to eat and their own way of surviving the Winter. The old artistic idea of winter is what it is, and now it means death. It means that I don't have enough to eat or buy Christmas presents and I DIE. I don't want to be here anymore. "What a cold little hand." Fuck this hand. This hand dies. I am sick of existing. I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE. I DON'T WANT TO BE ALIVE. KILL ME. Fuck your cold little hand. Stab me with it. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. SET ME ON FIRE AND KILL ME. WHY DO I HAVE TO STILL BE HERE? I fucking hate this. I fucking hate being here. Just fucking kill me. So that's where things stand. I have no hope of a job here, even though I am a capable science journalist and communicator who could probably work at all sorts of universities around the world. But that would mean leaving my kids, which equals death. And now this is pretty much the end. I do not want to live apart from my kids and wife, and there is no way for me to live here any more. I don't exist any more to my wife. I want to die immediately. I want a bullet through my heart. I want to be dead NOW. 3:09 a.m. - 2019-12-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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