I think this blog isn’t the only thing dying. As my mind deteriorates my sanity falls further and I just want to let go. Yet doing so is in fact fatal. I can’t live without purpose. I know it is often questioned as to why one needs purpose to live. Perhaps not everyone does. But to feel as though you could be normal, you could be sane. That doesn’t happen just anywhere. And I don’t want to let go of where it will happen.
This time last year. I wrote, or rather, drafted all of my suicide notes. but now, it’s worse, because I don’t feel like there’s anything left to say to anyone. Surely I couldn’t be insane if I didn’t acknowledge it, know it. Yet I feel it so innately it’s taken over my life until I’ve become a weak, wobbling, feeble and sickly mess. I drink too much, smoke too much, and hate myself for it.
So hence, this is a goodbye of many sorts. An end to writing, to life, and to all of life’s problems. I will not move on. I will not suffer anymore.