God I am so bad at consistency… It seems like the only time I want to write on here is when I’m literally one mild inconvenience away from actually killing myself. Isn’t that supposed to be the opposite of therapy? You’re supposed to do it consistently. Even when things aren’t bad because you know that it will be bad again soon and you’re trying to head off that pain....
Whatever, I hope you’re ready to hear me whine about my loneliness again. It seems to be the pervasive problem… I don’t have anyone to cry to anymore. Before I had Soma and he was always there for me… No matter how small my problems were and how big a deal I made of them he was there. And he cared. He would hold me and sing to me, pet my hair, tell me things would be alright… he would comfort me… I miss him so much and it kills me inside that I can’t talk about how much I miss him more.
It really does feel like nobody here cares about me. I know they say they do and that maybe in someway they do, but I don’t feel like I can cry to any of them. I don’t feel like I can trust them with my truest feelings. Even my relationship with David is being called into question. With the state of the world as it is, and everything going on some… we’ll say problematic world views have emerged from him. He’s even advocated eugenics against ‘Ghetto’ behavior. I didn’t have the energy or the strength to call him out for such blatantly racist behavior but it’s been sticking in my mind. I can’t even look at him anymore the same. I want to leave this city. I want to die…
I’m without a job because I quit working as a manger at McDonald’s when I found out they weren’t r giving their base employees hazard pay, only the managers… But now I don’t have a job and can’t seem to find one. Braden, my roommate, is covering rent and bills by himself and even that will run out soon because he doesn’t have a job either. I’m scared. But… by the same token… it’s so hard to justify taking care of myself. I don’t brush my teeth… I barely shower… I certainly don’t eat or drink right… all because my brain is convinced I won’t survive the year. Especially now… Even if I do, the likelihood of the status quo continuing, with a global pandemic and potential revolution immanent it certainly seems like we’re on the cusp of a change in the world as we know it.
And as I look into the horizon of my future I can’t help but think, “What’s the point?” “Why should I care about myself?” “Either I’ll be dead soon, or all the systemic problems leading to my depression and anxiety will be so why should I bother?”
So here I scream at the void. With no answers imminent I’ll likely be screaming again soon. Hopefully anyway. I shudder to think what could cause me to stop screaming… Something permanent hopefully.
Until next time…
Peace Love and Hair Grease,
Lionstar
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