I think I started getting sick last Wednesday and then I sort of undertook an intense program of not sleeping nor eating well nor drinking much water until I slept on Sunday morning for like two hours and then slept overnight Sunday night and woke up still sick, DUH.
I feel like I’ve been sick forever, but it’s been two days of being sick while taking care of myself.
You might think I’m sick because I was kinda hoping I might die this weekend, just to give myself a little light at the end of the tunnel, but, as you see, it didn’t happen.
Frankly, I’m pretty sure I could close my eyes and run across a busy highway without being struck. The only think that’s kept me from trying that is it could really ruin some truck driver’s day.
I’m not going to kill myself, but I don’t like continuing to think about it.
I really, really don’t like life and being sick doesn’t help that, although I’d probably be thinking about suicide more if I wasn’t ill.
Today I was thinking perhaps this is just allergies, but the only medicine I have, an allergy medicine, didn’t help at all.
I don’t really miss smoking, but smoking it what I did to commit suicide very slowly. That way, I wasn’t wasting my time just thinking about getting out — I was actually in the process of it.
No, I’m not mentally ill although you’d never guess that from reading my blog.
You hang on to life like it’s everything and I’m willing to throw away this body like it’s nothing. I’m not going to do it because some people would like me not to, and that’s the only reason.
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