Satin in the Coffin

I can't stand people talking about being suicidal like it was some phase or casual part in their life when things really sucked for them. "I broke up and now I feel like killing myself" Do you have any fucking idea what it feels like to give up the will to live? To check out suicide cook books, burn a funeral CD, and write a final draft of a suicide note. To not give a shit about attention, or remember what that feels like. To feel the guilt for the pain you are going to cause to those you care about. To plan what day would be a good time. Just fuck you, maybe you should go to one of the hospitals I did and see true suffering, you pampered piece of shit.

Anyways I gave up today. I'm not talking about suicide, or even considering it. I just had to get that off my chest. I wanted to destroy everything around me. Anything that wasn't alive I wanted to smash. I don't have hate for anyone. Just this pathetic anger at whatever is dragging me through life. Let me be, let me have peace. Either kill me off or leave me alone, but don't torture me like this. I can't keep living like this. It's just not right for anyone to live this way. I have it better than a lot of people, but I am saying none of those people should have to deal with this either. It's the same feeling as those few moments before you die after being hung; the noose is tight aroung your broken neck, but you haven't died yet. So you are suffocating to death. And it doesn't matter what the inside is, vinyl leather cotton satin. Your still in a box in the ground in the end. Are you dead or are you sleeping?

I hate waking up. Means I have to die again tonight.