A Coffin Your Size

if there is one thing i cannot take, it is being defeated again and again by this damnable illness that hijacks my brain from time to time, often triggered by external stressors.  i am giving up my baby to a couple that will take much better care of him than i can offer.  this is an irreversible choice.  i am moving again because i am repeatedly assfucked by the department of social services.  if one is going to help, i expect it to actually help, not to hinder.  my relationship is rocky at best, distant on your average day and a maelstrom of turmoil at worst.  i'm not entirely sure what the hell i'm doing, but whatever it is i guess it's not good enough.  

i'm not good enough for her or my children or anybody.  i guess i need to remove myself before i do any more damage than i've already inflicted.  figuratively or literally, i'm not sure yet.  it would take approximately five and half hours for me to die, according to my goodbye playlist.  i'm wondering how long a mass amount of pills would take to destroy my liver and fry my brain.  i wonder what it would be like to be hit by a car and bleed out within a matter of minutes.  i wonder what it would be like to be struck by lightning.  i wonder what it would be like to just die.

i wonder these things too much.

i am not healthy, i'm rational enough to realize this.  these characters, these ... alternates ... they take the drivers seat more and more.  i'm happy to sit in the passengers side, watching the road roll by without me.  let them take responsibility.  let them handle it.  i want to curl up in the dark and never squint in the light again.  it's too bright.  it's too brilliantly painful, illuminating all that is sick about me and the world.

i've lost faith in humanity, one human at a time.
i'm ill, i'm sick, i'm terminal.

i'll just sit here and eat my emo crackers in silence.  i miss silence.  there is never quiet in my head, so i blare music to drown it out.  sometimes it works.  sometimes it doesn't.  i am not okay, but why push that on others?  they have their own shit to deal with.  i'll deal with mine, come better or worse.

i have broken.  i can piece myself back together, but there will be cracks.  deep ones.  i hope the picture is still discernible after all of this.  so i can still see me in the mirror, and not the bullet holes where my compassion used to lie.