DXM: Not.
Am I happy about this lack of dxm in my life? Not really.
Nicotine: Not.
Alcohol: Much more. Daily use.
Bummed bummed bummed.
Fantasized about buying a shotgun today and killing myself in a Walmart parking lot. No worries: If I’m considering the ideas of where then it’s a statement and not an exit. But, I need to figure out some way to have fun.
I’m not enjoying my home life, yet I know I wouldn’t enjoy living alone either, so I’m fucked either way there.
Wheeee
It doesn’t feel natural to say I hate my life, so I have to believe I don’t actually hate my life. I do hate me though. I’m thinking more and more than we just disappear at death — no afterlife, no memory, no nothing… What remains in the memory of the living doesn’t matter because you cannot take pride in or take shame of your life.
If you want to kill yourself because your ex-wife said you wouldn’t, then it’s obviously secondary anyway so you probably shouldn’t.
However, if you’re willing to kill yourself, then why would you be willing to do just about anything because there are no consequences after death?
I wouldn’t kill other people because I wouldn’t want to inflict the inconvenience on those who depend on them.
I wouldn’t rob people because it terrorizes those people and I’ve had things stolen from me, I’ve even been robbed at gunpoint, and it sucks… wouldn’t want to do that to someone else.
I hate myself and I’m sure I’m a bad person, yet I don’t seem to fit the same mold as the people whom I might consider to be bad, fictional or otherwise.
I just want to stop thinking about it. Killing myself would be worth it, I’m thinking, just to end the debate.
Instead, I’ll just drink way too much, then then take a shitload of Benadryl so I go to sleep.
Then in the morning, I’ll just start all this bullshit again.
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