i feel this fucking burning urge in my stomach. i just feel fucking desperate to kill myself. i dont want to die, i want to commit suicide. there are so many thoughts racing through my head i cant even verbally describe everything wrong right now. its like my own death is eating me alive.
i want to dissolve into the things i cant describe. there are so many sounds i can hear and things i can see and things i can feel that i cant for the life of me put into words. theres always so much abstract or esoteric shit in my head that i fall in love with. it will never be something i get to experience myself and not something anybody else can understand. i just want to evaporate into all of those beautiful memories i never had. maybe thats why i always think of myself as a ghost. i feel like im going insane.
im gonna say some stuff that might not make any sense and maybe thats because im crazy or maybe its because its very late. its kinda funny how the only way i can talk about these things is when im saying it publically. maybe its because theres nobody i know who i can talk to these things about, and i need some sort of living feedback. is it vanity? exhibitionism? i dont know, and as the days go down im starting to realize that these are things i will never know. there are so many questions that will remain unanswered for the rest of time because i will not be here to do so, and nobody else will be able to answer them on my behalf. thinking about that is just as terrifying as it is beautiful. theres something about "never" that carries a sort of magic. time and space and reality will continue for so long, so long that it feels as if all that can happen will happen. the thought that there are things exempt from that is facinating. my life will be a defiance to the universe. its always felt that way, but i guess leaving it like this is a way to assure myself that thats true. of course i know that there are countless things that will never happen and the questions in my head are a drop in the sea of things that defy the apparent rule of innevitability. but i have a stupid fucking sense of entitlment and self importance. its gross.
i hate how people treat each other. theres so much hate and it feels like everywhere i look theres some sort of distain. maybe thats just me projecting, but i think to an extent its not. everyone just feels the need to bring negativity onto other people and will seem to take any opportunity to get rid of any positive expression they have towards someone else. why? why do people want to assume the worst? what is there to gain from actively making the world more hostile, especially when we would all be upset if those feelings were directed at us? im not exempt from any of this by the way. im just as hateful as anyone else, if not more. i want to try and change that and spend the time i have in this concious world making people feel better about themselves. but at the end of the day excessive hate is just a fact of society and a fact of myself, and i dont want to be in a world like that. i dont know how many times i can say i want to kill myself before it just becomes noise but i guess well find out. sorry i keep repeating myself.
i am going to kill myself on april 4th 2022. 18 years after the day i was supposed to be born, 4 days after 4/4/2004. ive planned this for so fucking long. i need to do it before i turn 18, almost enitely out of vanity. i feel like my death wont be as tragic or romantic if i do it after i graduate. i still dont know how ill do it because a shotgun leaves the possibility of fucking it up and being in unimaginable pain and breathing in car exhaust leaves too much time for me to pussy out. its all ive been thinking about recently but im still fucking terrified. ive planned it for 6 years but now im just 3 months away from it being a reality and i think that realization is starting to set in. knowing each day, each hour that passes is one of my last almost doesnt feel real. maybe im just wasting my precious few months on earth or maybe the complete lack of activity is what makes this suicide seem all the more inevitable. i dont belong here. i hate myself more than you could ever imagine and love myself in the same way. i can barely even tell what parts of me are real and whats just a fantasy ive tricked myself into living in. this world is so horrible yet so beautiful. i think thats why im so certain about my fate, i love the world too much to spend so many more years hating it. i want to be a ghost, a concept, something of abstract importance. maybe as this journal goes on ill be able to elaborate on what this all means and how i really feel because its always so hard to put into words. but for now, at 4:44 am, all you need to know is that i am going to kill myself.