I wish to retreat to the safety of a fantasy world where survival is clear cut and living is an obvious choice. I wish to seek solitude and thus peace. I wish to fuck myself brainless and spend the rest of the day laying in a pool of bodily fluids.
I wish for many things that shall never be true.
My birthday is one week from now and I feel that it shall be wasted. A year ago this time I was ready to kill myself. Now I don't know what I'm ready for. Maybe nothing. Things have changed, as they always tend to do.
I still get the urge to end this inanity but I resist, waiting for something more. Waiting to find some reason and meaning in my life that will give me purpose. I want conflict, I want terror, I want horror. Doubtless I will regret these words if the day shall ever come.
I don't know how I made it this far. Hope, that indestructible and yet almost ethereal thing that ties me to this world. Is it wrong that I hope the future holds destruction? Do I care? No. I just want something to live for.
And if that conflict should tear at last that string of hope, then I shall feel great relief at finally being able to end my life without the burdens of conscience I now hold, and at last this futile struggle will be at an end.
I just want a reason to live.
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