22.5.2000
There's no word for this. There's nothing that'd be even remotely accurate. And even if there was a word, it would do no good. Words hold no real power. Words can hurt, but they can't heal. That's not power. That's evil. That's something that doesn't have a name, like nothing has a name. Names never matter.
"[...]And if I tried
to give you something else,
something outside of myself,
you would not know
that the worst of anyone
can be, finally,
an accident of hope.[...]"
-Anne Sexton
I think I'm dead. I must be. I'm dead and I'm in Hell. There is no reality I could grasp.
I want to cut but it isn't enough anymore. It doesn't help. I want to cry and sometimes I try but I can't anymore. I don't know why I'm dried out. There's not much to say either. All the funny little colored words are quite mute and black today. There is no music either. Nothing seems to be alive.
I know I'm writing this because I can see the words appear. The fingers wouldn't want to move, though. They're heavy. And there is no thought behind the moves of my fingers. My head is cut up and the pieces don't connect with each other.
The thought of death is appealing. It's unattainable though. I don't have a rope handy.
These are the silly little thoughts that appear sometimes. I wonder what you people would say if I killed myself. I doubt it'd be much. There's not much to say after that.
I've always wanted cremation. I don't want to be abandoned in a hole when I die. I don't like the idea of becoming a part of the earth. I'd rather get up in the sky. I know it doesn't matter when I'm dead but it matters now. It's nicer to think of burning than rotting.
I think I've had too much time to think of these things.
A once said that it might have been better if I had gotten caught. They would've sent me to get 'proper treatment'. I'm not one for proper treatment though. Shrinks aren't very helpful. Well, the one I had wasn't. She kept babbling all the time, asking questions so fast that I didn't have time to answer properly. The experience was good though, in a way. I no longer consider 'proper treatment' possible. Something someone said in ash the other day, "it's a terrible day when one realizes that hope has become as unbearable as pain". Something like that anyway. He has a point.