Sitting here, I can not sleep. So I figured on making another therapeutic blog post. I find myself thinking about musicians who have died, listening to their songs/lyrics, seeing their pictures. You can see Chester Bennington looking down in depression in almost every Linking Park cover song, should have been a red flag since he later killed himself. Chris Cornell’s lyrics are so ominous. They spell the talk of his depression, going back and listening to them, perhaps it to is no suprise he killed himself. Then you have Kurt Cobain whose music was therapy. He hated people singing his songs and having to sing them every night on stage. Those songs were pure pain that he wrote for therapy, he was disgusted so many people were fans of his dark writing.
I don’t think suicide thoughts ever go away. They have chased me my whole life, to Anthony Bourdain to Robin Williams, even in their old ages they still couldnt shake the thoughts. I know I should be on medication, but the strangest phenomenon always occurs when I speak to doctors – they never prescribe me anything or just flat refuse to see me. I just dont get it. I dont get how it all works? New Hampshire is the center of the opioid crisis, and you can just point to any old person walking on the street and i guarantee each one is probably on 3-5 different narcotic prescriptions. Yet, i cant get a doctor to see me even if i could afford a doctor to see. There is just so much about life and normal human interaction that escapes me.
I sit and think about this time last year, I was sleeping in a homeless shelter in New York City playing basketball. by Mid June I was sleeping in park benches in Central Park. It is so depressing, Ive never had a taste of success and I dont know how to achieve mediocrity even. 32 years old, only made over $15,000 in one calander year my entire adult life. Sometimes I think there is nothing I can do, I dont think I will ever be a functional member of society.
I stop and think, why is the US Government doing this to me? The whole remote nueral monitoring thing. I mean even the NSA admits its happening to me, but why? what makes me so special? I am a nobody, always have been, so why pick me – as if there is literally not anything more important than me? It just doesnt make any sense.
It’s funny, in some ways I am smarter than anyone else in the world, but in other ways I am just retarded. Like I dont even own a license, because Ive never had confidence enough that I can do it. Like driving, there are many things that I just dont feel like I can do like other people. From finding steady jobs, to friends, relationships – everything. Take away this computer and my two websites, outside of food and toiletries, what do I have left in my possession? Sleep on an air matress in an apartment with not a single piece of furniture or TV or desk. I have 3 pairs of jeans, 4 pairs of shorts and maybe 8 shirts in a duffel bag. That’s literally the sum of all my assets. I have no self confidence on anything
I can afford rent for another 2 months, but what then? No one will hire me, I make zero money from this site. Taking away 2 months rent I have maybe 600$ left to my name for everything else in life. So, I will be flat broke again but August 1st. Destined to homeless again, just like I was last year. I just look at my shotgun, why is there nothing more to life than this? Does it really matter if I pull that trigger on August 1st instead of May 22nd? Why continue to subject myself to this?
I am too angry to sleep, to scared to cry. Its a mixture of emotions that just torments me.
I also cant eat, Ive lost about 45 pounds the last 13 months, lost 15 pounds the last 9 weeks. This is the lowest weight Ive been since 2012 – and Im not even trying. Many times lately when I stand up everything just gets dark for a split second and I am finding the desire to want to lay down in bed after only a couple hours of work. But even then I cant sleep, my mind just races. In New York a nurse did blood work on me and it came back with abnormally low white blood cell count. Is it depression I am feeling, is it cancer? who knows, I just dont feel like eating eat.
My phone is off, never renewed the bill. Internet service will shut down within 72 hours, dont know if I want to renew the bill. I wonder then how much I will miss writing, or what I would even do in the absence of internet? I dont know why Ive taken such a fascination with trying to be a leading site for important news stories. July 2019 will literally be 3 years trying to do this. But what do I have to show for it, really? Im sleeping and working on an air matress every night, and lived in homeless shelters, a psych ward and out on city streets for 13 months over the same time period. I have nothing in this life, so why cant I just give writing up? It feels like the only thing I have left to live for, even though there is no point to it or reward for it.
It’s hard not having a single ally, or anyone you can talk to. I trust no one and Im the most hated person in the world everywhere I go, and have no one other than myself to bounce ideas, plans or thoughts off of. Its just hard. I would like to go to sleep one night and never wake up, seems like such a more peaceful way to die, but have nothing to OD with. Im half scared the shotgun will malfunction and ill just end up some disfigured vegetable of a person instead of dying – that would literally be my luck. I feel like suicide is letting them win, whoever they are, so I hold off. But that is easy to say now when I am not completely out of options like I will be in August.