Every day is a fight

If I could walk away.

Away from here, away from this life. Leave behind everything that’s making me sick. But that is death. There’s no escape except death. I keep waiting forever for the day I can be free, pushing it always further in my mind, chaining myself to the ground and other people’s expectations. Why not now? I’ve been waiting for over 20 years. Why not just finally end it? I’ve been preparing myself 20 years. I’m ready to go.

The last 2 days were bad, really bad. Too many direct hits during Christmas holiday. Too many things I couldn’t block. Almost told my sis but backed down just in time. She will see – everyone will see – in due time. That day. The day I’ve been waiting for so long. Freedom. It might mean my death too. If things go well I’ll just be locked away for the rest of my life.

And then I think again, not yet. I still have someone to come home to. I have Maru. I have Seed. They depend on me. I can’t imagine life without them. I made a promise to Seed after he broke in tears after I came back home. If it has to be, we will go together.

Too much stress this year. My body is giving up. Lungs and heart can’t take it. Seeing a doctor in a few weeks. But no hope. I don’t feel depressed. Mostly I’m just angry. At people. Any people. Mostly my family. Mostly mum. So much I wish for her death. If The Day Of Freedom comes when she’s still alive she’ll be the first victim. And I’ll make her suffer. For every single fucking day of my life. You made me like this. You killed the child I was and made me a fucking monster. Monsters are not born, they are raised. And you will see, and you will feel it. They will see. Everyone will see. And everyone will know who did this to me and spit on your grave.

For months now. Every day I wish I could get out, walk away. It’s hard to try and get education when everything works against me. My brain shut down because of the massive stress. I have not enough money to go to school every day. I don’t even have enough to eat half the month, every month. There’s no motivation, just blind rage.

Motivation. Odd. I don’t seem to have any of it to anything but hurting others. I’m killing time while waiting for my Day. Not progressing. I have no steady plans and my life is based on lies and deceit. Does it sound sad? I don’t know. I’ve lost the interest in getting anywhere. I know I should just get the fuck out of here, someplace far, far away from my family or I end up killing them sooner than later. It’s been years that I felt the bloodlust this strong. Nothing else matters. Right now I’m holding onto the last straw. Guns have kept me alive and motivated many years, but I don’t know if it’s enough this time. Maybe I’ve just lost the last hope and given up?

During the hassle of moving here I lost the knowledge of the location of my razorblades. That. Sucks. I even lost those rusty old blades I had in a pouch. Fuck it. My good knives aren’t sharp enough anymore. Meds bring no relief. And there’s not enough of them for an overdose. Whatever. I know something must change but I’ve lost the knowledge of what and how to do it. I don’t remember. Annoying.

Thinking about nails. And a hammer. And hitting the nails into the body of some whore with the hammer. A nail gun would be perfect. Less hard work. Thinking about slashing. Warm blood on my face. Calms me down. Stabbing some whore until she dies. Thinking about killing, it calms me. I have to think about it to calm down. Can’t keep my thoughts away from it. Can’t focus on anything else. Sedatives have 0 effect. Guess a knife it is. Have to get focused. Have to get grip.

… Yeah, great, it’s too dull. Or my skin is too thick. :/ Gotta improvise. Break something to get my hands on a blade. Should feel better afterwards. Always a better choice than harming others, right? There’s no other way. It’s the last choice. When nothing else helps. I’m off getting myself bloody. Maybe next post won’t be this dark then?

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