At least its not only me. This fucking gray spring has been ruining New England as a whole. Perhaps shrubbie even has control of the weather and is now punishing us. Or maybe the world just wants to make sure the outside matches my insides. In any event it does little to bolster my terrible feelings.
I feel so alone, so unable to create meaningfull change. Every day, as soon as I wake I'm already counting down the hours until I can slip back into sleep. My dreams are haunted, but at least they are not my life, which is strangling me moment by moment.
I try and be a good person. I've never been one to kill myself. And I know I wouldn't. But the essence of the idea makes alot of sense right now. Not having to *be* anymore sounds delicious. I ball up my fists and I scream because it had to be *my* egg that managed to get itself fertilized. Out of all the others that managed to miss it, or even the one other who grew, but died as they took her out, I had to burst out full to the world. I used to look at that as my blessing, but more and more its a curse.
But then the sarcastic asshole that lives in the back of my brain reminds me that if I die without knowing what happens to Tony Soprano, I'll never forgive myself, and I resign myself that I do belong on this shit ball of a planet, and if thats true, i better stop shitting around wanting to die and FIX THINGS.
(now if only the asshole voice actually knew how to do that...)
