Living is Killing Me

I don't even know where to start...

But fuck you.

And fuck God, too. And fuck the world. And fuck it all to fucking hell.

Just fuck off and leave me the fuck alone.

She died at 4:00 am on Friday, March 31, 2006.

I wrote her obituary.

I picked out the clothes for her funeral.

I put the beautiful silk jacket on her cold and stiff body. Just looking at her dead face... and I totally lost it.

I felt my body cracking and breaking from all of my tears pouring out of me... like a waterfall... but I had to make her beautiful...

... just playing dress-up like all our shopping trips together.

I wrote her eulogy.

I cried the entire time I gave it... pieces of me slowly falling off and crashing below as I stood before her dead body in a cherry wood casket.

I am writing the thank-you letters to send to everyone who donated money, sent food, gifts & flowers.

I don't know who I am.

I don't know what to do.

I don't give a fuck about any of it anymore.

I thought I didn't care before, but since her death, I am just walking around blind and deaf, counting the minutes until a bus runs me over to end me forever.

I haven't been doing very good at all.

I hate myself even more now than I did before.

I hate that she is gone.

She was the only home I have ever known in my entire life. She was the only one I always went to when I needed to feel alive and safe.

And now she is gone.

I am even more alone now.

Now, I am just vapor.

I want to change my name, change my number, get up & move and leave everything/everyone behind forever, once and for all.

A FRESH START.

I don't give a fucking fuck if you think I am too scared or running away. What if I'm not running away because I'm scared, but I'm running towards something to feel safe?

Have you thought about that?

How can I be running away from something if I'm trying to finally be safe? How is that running away? Isn't that taking care of myself?

I don't know.

Fuck off if you think I should tough it out.

Fuck you if you are going to give me some bull fucking mother fucker cliche... shove your cliches up your rotten ass.

Just bring her back.

I didn't want her to die.

Please. I am begging you with every weighted tear pouring out of my eyes right now...

JUST BRING HER BACK, DAMMIT.

I have never felt so numb and hard, so angry and violent, so empty and dead.

She was the only one helping me to live.

She was the only one I lived for.

She was my life.

And now I don't know what to do.

I don't want to be here.

I want to disappear and start a new life somewhere else. Like I did before, but I returned for some reason. So maybe I returned to be here for her death... but now I have to go... don't I??

I don't want to be here anymore.

Literally.

And figuratively.

Fuck you for taking her away from me.

Just fuck off.

And fuck this blog. Fuck writing. Fuck it all.

Fuck everything.

And fuck you the most, God. Fuck you. Kill me now. Just get it over with... Why do you keep on slowly killing me by ripping away the only things and people that have meant anything to me? Why even bother with all that extra effort? Just kill me now. Save yourself a hell of a lot of steps by cutting right to the chase... just slam my car into a deadly tree. Or aim a drunk driver in my direction. And give him a lit cigarette to make my car burst into flames upon impact...

Just finish it...

If you even exist, just finish me forever.

PLEASE GOD,
DON'T MAKE ME LIVE ANYMORE BECAUSE THIS LIFE IS KILLING ME.

I don't have anyone now.

She was my heart and soul.

Please, Dear God,
Bring her back to me because my heart is missing, my eyes are burning and my body is dead cold... like hers.