Why The Hell Am I This Way?

II am totally clueless as to why the other night I sat awake and tried to think of reasons why I shouldn't kill myself, I honestly couldn’t really think of a reason, except that I didn't want to prove the teachers right, I didn't want that. But now I am stuck in this funk, a rut. I don't know why I look at a pane of glass and think ' why don't I just put my fist through it, why not?' I don't care about the consequence. I just don't care. I am at the point where I don't care about where I go after I die, just as long as I am not alive. I just want eternal sleep.

But honestly, I lied there and thought (@ 3:00, when for once there was no one awake in my house) why not go downstairs, grab a knife, and put it to my wrists? WHY NOT? I don't really know how I talked myself out of it. I just did.

And there I am. ME. I am a lowly human being, I am an animal, which has taken over and destroyed the world. I am a part of a race that created meaningless emotions, which rule our lives, and take over our brains. Everything is talk, it's all people, there is no grander scale. We all exist, and destroy what is so beautiful about earth, earth. Why do I want to be a part of that?

But I feel so selfish, these are my feelings, and there are many people who enjoy breathing and existing, they see beauty I can only imagine, beauty that once existed. They are free. And I know and love some of those people, and I am so afraid of what I would do to them if I just, made a quick exit. They are my feelings and mine alone. So why should I fuck with people.

But that brings me to something else, it's all people. I don't really know how to explain that, but it's always well my family, well my friend, we all talk all the time about people. Not nature, not other beings, the great beyond, not wondrous things, just PEOPLE. I am sick of it. I am wasting air when I take a breath to talk.

This shitty funk all started with a conversation with science teacher, he accused me of being suicidal because of something I wrote jokingly that made no sense at all, in a late book. It said, "Because I died???" for my reason for being late (my next one was, "there was a cow...") but anyways. When he accused me and said I wasn't happy and shiny like I used to be at the beginning of the semester, and if I ever need help that he is always there for me, because he's "been there before" I just panicked, I just froze up and said I was there and I am never going there again. I am not suicidal I thought to myself, and realized I was lying. I also realized that the "happy shiny" mask had worn thin; pushing it down just doesn't work anymore. And that made it worse. But I have to get over it anyways because, it's getting in the way of my schoolwork, of course.

But I really don't care about school. I just don't. Science just isn't important to me. I go out and learn the things I want to learn to be the person I want to be. But now I am no one. I realized that everyone copies from someone, in someway or form. NOTHING can even remotely be original. Everyone spends their whole lives chasing dreams, chasing an image and a way of being. They set out to be something, and they get the idea for it somewhere. So if I can't be original, then what can I be? A sheep? A blood-sucking leech?   

But as I am sitting here attempting (and failing) at pouring my heart out, I think, I have a very important friend that is going through the same type of thing at close to the same time. And it scares me, I am so afraid for her. But not me at all. I am just not as afraid of dying as I used to be. I am going to someday anyways.

I sit around and cry my eyes out and think of how much I am fucked, and I don't REALLY know why, have lived with all those little things for so long and they never ever sent me into something like this. They never made me feel this way. I am beyond that place where I never wanted to go again. I am past it times three. I can now walk down the road in broad daylight, and have a tear roll down my cheek, where a year ago it was unthinkable, and I still don't know why it is there. I am still striving for that perfection that I know doesn't exist; I want that total inner peace, which I just can't find.