This is the first time I have ever just written without any thought. A semi morbid look into my mind. Here it is. Me, completely unedited.
I don’t deserve to live and I don’t deserve to die. I am scared of my own mind sometimes. what is that thing I’ve heard before, the only thing we have to fear is fear itself? what about high places, and sharks, and failure, and death? I fear those things. when will it rain? The rain is my favorite kind of weather because it most resembles my mood ninety percent of the time. It comes either suddenly, or it builds slowly. Sometimes it thrashes and breaks in torrents, bringing destruction in its path, other times it is gentle, a washing over, a cleansing over dust and heat. That is why I like the rain. I have always been scared to write this way, just a pure window into my head, one can get lost in it. My rabit hole where there is just a void, no end it seems most days.
The thoughts go on and on and spiral in all directions. “Penny for your thoughts” people say, oh trust me you don’t want to know them…they are everywhere. Sometimes so dark even I want to run from them. A place of desolation, a fiery hell of blackness. Other times a dry desert, a thirst I cannot quench, a heat I cannot cool from. The other day I had a mental breakdown on my bathroom floor. I tried to take shots of tequila, one right after the other, tried to numb the depression, I threw them up almost instantly. Then I lie on the bathroom floor sobbing for the ridiculousness of it, that I can’t even get drunk properly. I cried for it all. my pity, my bipolar, the sadness that seems to have no end, my mania, my body, how it aches to feel some semblance of normal. I got that urge to cut again, to feel the blood, to physically feel something on the outside that resembled the inside, then I took two pills and I slept.
Why do I cry when my fish die? They are fish after all, isn’t that ridiculous? Why are dogs so loyal? I miss the ocean and traveling. I have been away from it far too long, I need the salty air and the water on my skin. I need the sand beneath my feet. It has called to me many times, it’s siren song trying to lure me into its depths, but somehow I always resist it. I have a love for the ocean I’ll never completely understand. As well as healthy respect. I feel like I am lost without being around it often enough and that is how I am feeling now, I also want to run away. Get in my car with my dog and computer and just leave everything behind. Start over where no one knows my name, create a new me. Drive until I am out of gas. Or fly, fly to the swiss alps, get a cabin with a huge fireplace, walk in the foggy mountains, drink goats milk in the snow, and dance under moonlight in fur boots like a lost Viking girl. I want to breathe air that is thin and cold and feels like maybe I finally belong somewhere. Evigt. Forever.