Here I am, writing with shaky hands, drinking Whiskey right out of the bottle. It’s my birthday.
What a beautiful day. Happy carcass jubilee to meeeeeeee…..yeah!
My room smells of flowers and the new perfume I bought myself today, my hair smells of smoke and my breath smells of booze and the garlic pesto I ate today, because I knew that no one would come around to say hi (thought about drinking the perfume first, at least that would have made the 70 bucks I spent on it kinda well-invested…but it smells too good to actually drink it. So I guess If I’m not happy and funny, I can at least smell happy and funny….just to be the perfect illusion everyone expects)
Birthdays have always been kind of a killer for me. And maybe some of you can understand.
Turning one year older just reminds me of all the things I wanted to do in the last twelve months and just couldn’t…due to my incapability to just LIVE. It reminds me of the people I lost…dead people and people who just think that they are dead to me because of my behavior towards them.
And it reminds me of myself….being admitted to the hospital because I didn’t want to live anymore (yes, today is also an anniversary)….well, I still don’t want to live, but I can deal with it now and I know it’s never gonna change (it’s not like my therapists hadn’t warned me that’d be a live-long struggle)….but it’s just so frustrating to know that no matter what you do in life, you’ll never be satisfied or happy. And that’s the one little thing that keeps destroying you…and the one little aspect about your life, that no one around you is able to understand. I don’t blame them. I can’t…because they’re are just naïve, innocent people….and for their sake, I really hope that’ll always stay like that.
Thank you very much!