I was thinking that my anual bout of crippling suicidal depression is comming late this year, but I guess it's the same as 2004 (mid-late feb).
I'm really tired of this stupid game. Where I'm just dead and ineffectual 4 months of the year. I HATE
I just rationalized it like menstruation, something that I just have to deal with every winter. But it's getting so lame. And I get tired of seeing scissors and yhaving my first thought be "I can stab this into my head!" or driving to work and thinking "wow, could just make a sudden jerk and I would drive off an overpass and die." I hate having all my thoughts turn into guilt about my own short comings, and that guilt turn into frustration with no outlet but the pain in my chest. I hate knowing that nothing's going to change unless I make it change, and hating that I continue to do nothing, instead letting the redixulious aspects of menial, day to day life become a higher priority. Just as garbage like the internet is a higher priority than pursuing my dreams. Of course I have absolutley zero dreams, so that's not an issue.
I thought that maybe if I went home and cried I would feel better. But I couldn't cry now that I wanted to. The las time I cried was Oct 3 2000, I had a dream about my cat pixel and I woke up and cried because I missed her. I hate people. I think cats (and probably dogs) are so much more genuine and deserving of my respect. This is the exact train of thought that prompted me to write the children's book in 2004. Wow, even my depression is in a rut. Hahaha I'm laughing because I am so horribly pathetic. Hahaha. Let's all laugh at me.
I want to get a tattoo that says "I've given up on my self" to remind me of my rediculiousness.
suicide club 2
dave: hi tony, want to go skateboarding?
tony: no. i do kind of want to go horseback riding.
dave: that sounds fun. let me get my saddle.
t: would you like some doritos before we leave?
d: yeah. I like the onnes in the silver bag. what are they, black pepercorn or something?
t: well these are... silver razor flavor!
[tony hurls handfuls of razors at dave. Dave screames like someone who had their foot stepped on by a horse while wearing steel toed boots, so the steel cuts their toes off.]
d: tony why?
tony: i want to razor my self to death and have bleeding pulpy messes at the end of my arms and die of blood loss.
d: I HATE YOU! YOU ARE A SHITTY FRIEND!
T: YOU ARE A FUCKING BASTARD! STOP STEALING MY THINGS AND SELLING THEM ON EBAY!
D: STOP THROWING DORITO FLAVOURED RAZORS AT ME!
T: TAKE THE WHOLE BAG.
[tony puts the whole bag on dave's head. then he punches the bag. razors rip through the bag and slice tonys hand and daves face. they both start makijg owl noises induced by the neurotoooxin on the razors.]
d: i' calling the police. and animal controll.[ he starts to diall the phone, but razor blades cut off all his fingers.]
d: ohno! i can no longer exert power over my environment!
just then, tony's friend james stops by.
james: oh, this looks gross. there is blood and sinue everywhere! it's like you just slaughtered a narwhal!
[james takes a narwhal tooth (aka horn) out of his pocket. then he stqbs tony with it. right in the shoulder. it goes through tony's shoulder and stabs dave as well, and now the two are scewered together. when ever they move they rub razor blades on each other.]
J: you shuld have anticipated the narhwal's revenge!
[just then a giant t rex falls from the moon and right into the house. then it eats them all. then it explodes do to the earth's oxygen and its skin combining to form atomic expklosion like reaction.
many died, but more survived. all the survivors lost their limbs and had crippling arthritis in the rest of their body.