Ugh, Life...

Don’t read this. It’s depressing. Don’t “check on me” either. I’m fine. I’ve said it enough tonight to believe it. “I’m fine.” I am. You can be not ok in a day and not need saving. Chill. 

I’m thumbing through the newsfeed to get my “news” because the real stuff is too much. My favorite people are hurting and loosing. The best people are leaving and scum fuck dirt bags are left unscathed to step on my scale during every weigh in and make me feel my efforts were futile.

Let’s see...

Today is World Suicide Day. Prevention? Sure. Try googling “ways to kill yourself” and you’ll find a million ways to combat depression and ‘get help’ before you’ll find ways to make homemade poisons that will painlessly alleviate your pain. You’ll find feeds of “friends” to chat with before you’d find a how-to on knots to knit a noose and how to hang it. 

The erev of 9/11. During a pandemic. While everyone around us is dying. So much pain. I see you. The arts are dying. That Cheeto shmuck is still in office. And old ghosts keep coming back to shove my face in the mud when I’m already in the middle of a rainstorm. Oddly enough, I find empathy and peace in looking at horrible pictures. I googled images of 9/11. The image of the falling man is the most poignant. The absolute surrender is so relevant to me. Knowing there’s just no shot at making your way out and getting to pick which way to go and just leaning into it with every inch of grace you’ve got. It’s poetic. If you’re offended by that, you’ve maybe never experienced real trauma before. I’m Happy for ya. 👍🏻

Today sucked in 23 ways. I vented to this girl I’ve loved since the earliest of teenaged times and she chimed in “me, too” and reminded me of all the reasons I couldn’t and shouldn’t give into the impulses we’ve both fought since freer times. I nodded like the robot I’ve become and showered off the day. I let some water out that was building up behind my face, in my office, on a yoga mat and listened to a kid the age I was when I met this girl- his room on the other side of these paper thin walls... I listened as he clumsily sparred with his cohort way past his bedtime. Scheming and cursing like a sailor. I didn’t yell his name and remind him not to curse or to put in his Invisalign or to go to bed. Fuck it. 

Still here. 

I cut more off of my hair like an proper psycho chick in the middle of a mental crisis would. Not bangs, though, so I’m still ok. Length isn’t sexy if it’s all dead. Relax. I trimmed the death away to feel lighter. It didn’t work. I watched a shitty dude in a bad wig pretend to be a real rock star in a live feed while his percussionist hit a conga with a handle of a morraca -off tempo- possibly mid stroke. Why are shitty people allowed to be relevant and regarded? It’s like we can be half-witted selfish pricks who mimic the greats and get applauded for it. I’m sorry, not every kid should get a trophy for participation. Demand more. 

I sought the answer to that In a school night shot of shitty left over house party vodka that a well-Intended attendee left behind.... and I ate some weird vegan ice cream made out of avocados from Target. It was gross. 

Still here. 

If you’re feeling suicidal, HMU. I have ideas.

This one was particularly inspiring. Please see below.