27 Club

death can be both physical, spiritual, of the ego, of love, of many things that bring life.

my my main goal for this year was to see it through, and i have been kicking and screaming the whole way. heartbreak, love beyond words, hatred after the home burned down. admiration for those who move like me, because i move through thick water. resentment for those who cant, but understanding and kindness regardless. i dont think enough people are okay with being uncomfortable.

ive lived double lives and one too many at the same time. you are one of a kind yet we are one in the same. i see you. all of you, and you dont like it, its uncomfortable, but that is okay, it is totally okay, and so are you.

it will be okay in the end and if its not okay, its not the end.

i have struggled with so many self harm and suicidal tendencies. that is the truth and you deserve the truth. it is who i am. i am not sure if you will ever see this, not many will. but if you do, it was meant for you. ive got 17 days left. i am worried once i get to the top of the mountain nothing will be there but pain. or worse, nothing at all. the worst part about being myself is that anything is always nothing. it always comes back to zero. baseline.

i find so much pride in building. i find anger in not being good enough, so i build those around me to be great, often times i find myself believing more in others than they do themselves. it is an uphill battle. i have carved a stone myself and have given myself the title of sisyphus. a martyr. a satyr, have goat, have human. i border on mania over any emotion. where nothing matters, it all can matter. where my mind is lost, i find myself. where death lies, i rest and sleep well to wake the next morning, i grit my teeth and bite my tongue, put my knuckles in the the dirt and move.

i dont know why i do this to myself. i neglect my body mind and soul as a sacrifice to a god that i dont believe in for people that dont believe in themeselves. why?

i drink wine until it becomes a bastard of what it was meant to be. i feel great until i cannot feel at all, at least then i dont feel bad.

it is the end of august and the end of everything. i think if you cant speak to a child then you should not speak at all. if you cannot become a child, then why become anything?

i am not sure who will read this, but if you do, i hope you read it well and in good health.

i see you, and if nobody has told you yet i believe in you. if nobody has told you yet, i think you are capable of great and truly amazing things.

if nobody has told you i am proud of you.

do you not remember? we were two dragon flies hunting mosquitos in the maine summers. you were a hummingbird searching for nectar, and i a bee, searching in the same brush. i was a mechanic in a small town and you were the beauty who blew a tire. i packed your groceries for you and you thanked me in sign langauge. i was the servant holding the palm leaf while you drank the finest honey wine. you were the sun and i was the hill you hid behind. you were everything and so was i. one of a kind but one in the same.

i dont feel okay.