Lavínia
plalace
- Feb 19, 2024
- 125
I move my body. I stand, sit, and lie down. I speak, ponder, act, and regret. I walk, kick my legs hard, feel pressure in my joints, my muscles burning. Moving this bundle of flesh, continuously, back and forth, for 21 years, I realize how dirty I am. How much this oil oozes from my insides, how rotten the smell of this disgusting life is. A person who lives to live, less than mediocre. Hateful. Hunting and collecting reasons to live, each simpler and more disgusting than the last, and abandoning each one from time to time. Lazy.
You know, it's been a long time since I was afraid. That a craving hadn't come to get me, I'm going to hang myself today. I don't think I'll die, but I need to hang myself. I haven't seen any hanging methods, it wasn't my chosen method, I'm just going to do it like I saw in a manga once. A small rope tied to a doorknob. Getting drunk and hanging from the rope makes it harder to untie yourself or even think straight.
I don't have the brain to think about what could go wrong, it doesn't matter. If it works, I'm a winner. My head is starting to deteriorate again. After walking on the rope like a normal person, I'm starting to slip, or worse, chewing on the rope to fall. This comes and goes without stopping. It's not fatigue. It's not disgust. It's not anger. It's a feeling that only arises when the same thing happens over and over again, boringly. Fuck it. I started drinking.
You know, it's been a long time since I was afraid. That a craving hadn't come to get me, I'm going to hang myself today. I don't think I'll die, but I need to hang myself. I haven't seen any hanging methods, it wasn't my chosen method, I'm just going to do it like I saw in a manga once. A small rope tied to a doorknob. Getting drunk and hanging from the rope makes it harder to untie yourself or even think straight.
I don't have the brain to think about what could go wrong, it doesn't matter. If it works, I'm a winner. My head is starting to deteriorate again. After walking on the rope like a normal person, I'm starting to slip, or worse, chewing on the rope to fall. This comes and goes without stopping. It's not fatigue. It's not disgust. It's not anger. It's a feeling that only arises when the same thing happens over and over again, boringly. Fuck it. I started drinking.
