Ok, I know i’m fucking depressed, but this is getting out of hand.

I sit here, almost 3am, and I am crying.

I’m feeling overwhelmed by the sense of loss.  Loss of my happiness, loss of desire, loss of love, loss of self.  I am literally bored to tears.  The feeling that my life is so empty that there is nothing left but to end it all.  I want to do something, desperately want to find some activity that will waste enough time that I will get tired and go to bed.  There is nothing left.

Even having something new to do at this point wouldn’t help anymore, I’m sure of it.  I have lots of things I want to do, and a bunch of things I really should do, but I can’t get myself to do them.  The idea of starting any of them is just revolting to me.  I can’t make myself do anything but sit here and be crushed by despair.  I feel so very much alone.

No joy without others.

The weight on my chest is oppressive.  I can’t breath between the tears.  Please kill me now.  End my suffering.  End my pain.  End the pain I cause in others.  End me.

I am trying to get this all out as some sort of therapy, not sure its working.   I can type and type and type, but in the end, I still have nothing to do.  Correction, I still can’t bring myself to do anything.  I’m boring myself to death.  It’s a slow death, not very painful tho.

My stomach is about to explode from the amount of food and soda i’ve consumed in the last few hours.  It would be more, but I’m out of Pop Tarts.  I want brownies.  And a razor.

I am tempted to go clean the garage and fill up the tank in my car, just to sit in it while its running so I can just fall asleep and drift away.  I hope they have board games in hell.

I give up.  This isn’t helping, I’m just getting hungry.  I shouldn’t even post this rambling piece of crap, but I will.

I miss my wife.  Life was so much easier when I was just depressed all the time.  For some reason, this is worse.  Sure, I’m depressed now, but not like before.  I used to be able to distract myself, I can’t seem to do that anymore.  All the old loves are gone.  The only things I can think to do are completely crazy, and I probably wouldn’t do them either.

I have an old can of dark red paint that we never used.  I want to go and make bloody hand prints and blood splatters all over the living room and dining room.  It won’t look right, the paint is kind of a deep reddish purple.  Still.  Wouldn’t be any fun without someone to share it with.

I want to use all of the left over christmas paper as wall paper.  At least that would be easy to clean up.  Not destructive enough.  I want to destroy.  If I can’t destroy my life, I’ll destroy the things around me, the things that are a constant reminder of the money I’ve wasted over the years.  I hear them calling out their prices, I just want to shatter them all to keep them quiet.  It won’t work of course, they will still remind me of the lost wages, but know I won’t even have anything to show for it.

It’s not too hard to fix a hole in drywall, right?  I guess I would have to by the stuff to fix it, and thats just more wasted money.  I should move to a monastery, or a padded cell.  Maybe if I wasn’t constantly having to hold all of this in it wouldn’t get so bad, but I must hide it all, keep it inside to boil and churn in my stomach.  Brownies or cupcakes?

The basement walls are crap and need replacing anyway, a few holes down here wouldn’t hurt anything really.  Then again, the noise would wake up the wife, and she’d get all upset.  How am I supposed to destroy the world and be considerate at the same time?

“Excuse me?  Would you mind terribly if I blew up this building?  Oh, you would?  Ok then, I’ll just pop off and ask that gent over there.”

I need a release valve, something I can just go crazy on, completely let myself snap and not have to worry about the consequences.   Too much crap that my hoarder of a wife won’t let go of for that to be possible.  Hell, I can’t even clean without her going bat shit about it.

I probably make these posts too long.  I generally try to keep them under a thousand words best I can.  Doesn’t always work tho.  Fuck ’em.  You can stop reading whenever you like, I’m not forcing you to read all of it.  My office, too, is filled with planned projects that never got started, stupid shit I bought, all reminding me just how broke I am.  I should give up and get a freaking job so that way at least my wife can afford to repair the things I break.  Unless I snap at work and destroy something there.  The angry days can be very interesting.

My daughter calls them “Scarey Daddy Days.”

All my willpower goes to keeping myself from doing something very bad, like stabbing my son when he says something stupid, or throwing all our DVD’s at a wall because we can agree on something to watch.  (True story actually)  What happens on the day I simply run out?

I’m scared to get a job.  I don’t know if anyone realizes this.  I give my excuses as to why I haven’t looked yet, but the real answer is fear.  What if I do snap while at work?  What if I simply can’t do anything anymore.  I’m not motivated enough to do anything but eat, and that doesn’t pay well.  What if I simply can’t hack it anymore.  I so hate the human race, and a job would require dealing with them in some form or another, the idea of it sickens me.

Over a thousand now.  Time to go.

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