I'll burn my eyes out. in 1. Sometimes giving up is the only way.

I’m not sure why my will to live is so strong. I was almost in 2 accidents in the last 24 hours. Once on the way home, someone tried to move into my lane (during rush hour traffic) without looking.
I mean i guess i can understand? No not really. I’d been beside them for quite some time and they just moved over and right before hitting me I pressed my horn and scared them off.

Like… frightened deer or some kinda wild carnivore.

Of course the family in the car gave me dirty looks and several “polite” gestures.

Hey sorry you can’t look slightly to your right and see the fucking car there. All I could think was if i’d let them hit me, somehow someone would find a way to make it my fault and i’d be sued to and have to pay them. Which to me isn’t worth it, maybe if one of their kids died in the process. Really I think that’s the only way people learn anything. When tragedy strikes home. Otherwise, who the fuck cares?

The second ‘incident’ was this morning. Again riding alongside this moron for a good stretch (2 or 3 mins at least) and in the pitch black rain he tries to swerve into my lane. I actually moved the car without thinking while also hitting the horn. This guy was very upset that i didn’t .... let him fuck up both of our days? Cost both of us arms n legs to fix the cars he ruined? He pulled in behind me flashing his lights every few seconds. Getting as close as possible. I did what i normally do. Let my foot off the gas and just gradually slow down. He has to keep backing off more and more since my brake lights aren’t coming on but he’s getting closer.

Finally after a few mins of that he went around me on the left (he cut off a another car by switching lanes with no signal again) to scream things at me from there. He rolled down his window and started .. throwing things at me. We’re both doing around 65 or so really he was just littering on the highway.

It was… entertainingly stupid.

Both times i reacted before i could think through the situation. If i’d let these idiots hit me, my insurance would have covered whatever damage. But more than likely my air bag would have deployed. I learned recently that it’s more expensive (sometimes) to replace the air bag than what the car is worth so in that situation they would just total out the car.

My car is old and definitely not worth it so it would have been totaled out and then i have to go get a new car. Which isn’t a bad thing. well not totally.

Potentially off work for a few weeks due to injuries? Pills to make the pain go away?
Just death ?

Maybe that’s it, my brain analyzed the potential there and realized i’d barely get hurt and therefore the wreck isn’t worth it. Too many ‘ifs’ to be sure of total annihilation so better play it safe and wait for a real crisis, something actually life threatening and potentially fatal.

Sigh.

My sleep has gotten worse. I’m always exhausted it reminds me of my time with insomnia.

Insomniac
“The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole –
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
Under the eyes of the stars and the moon’s rictus
He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness
Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie
Exposes embarrassments–the mizzling days
Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,
Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,
A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.
His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.
Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue –
How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!
Those sugary planets whose influence won for him
A life baptized in no-life for a while,
And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.
Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.
Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.
Each gesture flees immediately down an alley
Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance
Drains like water out the hole at the far end.
He lives without privacy in a lidless room,
The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open
On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats
Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.
The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,
And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,
Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.”

• Sylvia Plath