Just Like a Vacuum Cleaner

Everything suuuuuuuuckkkksss.

Just Why Aren't I?

I'm not helping myself at all.

Just Don't Want to Continue This

I don't want to help myself.

Just a Solo Adventure

I went out for a walk at 3 am. I intended to jump off the bridge. I just walked by and looked down then pondered for awhile. Went to Burger King to eat. Bought a six pack. I don't know anymore.

Just Can't Tweet This

People are so oblivious.

Just Rumination

Please let me do it tonight. I don't want to hold on till Monday. I can't do this anymore. I didn't take my meds for a whole month in the hopes that I would have the guts to do it. This isn't a call for help. I'm just sick of it all. Please, just let me end it. Please. I can't do this. I can't take it. I'm running out of distractions. I can't find meaning in life. I have to do it. Please. I'm begging. I don't want to continue. I have had enough. I want to die. I want to kill myself. I want someone to murder me. I want to drown. I want to poison myself. How can I do it? I want it to be quick. Someone kill me please. I want to die so much. I'm not helping myself. I have no plans for the future. I can't find happiness. Happiness is temporary. Sadness, too. Everything is. Why can't this all end. Please don't be sad when I'm gone. It's no one's fault. I blame biology. I should sleep this off. This is not a good idea. Nothing is a good idea. I'm ruminating. Where are my positive thoughts? They're lost. Everything is gone. I want to be gone. I want to disappear. Why am I like this? What is causing me to think all this? I really don't want to be here anymore. I want to die. I keep entertaining these thoughts. I'm not finding a distraction like my therapist told me to. Fuck the therapist. I'm not going to my next session. I don't want to make it next week. I don't want to see anyone's faces. This post is getting so long. It's boring. It's just me ranting, repeating the same words over and over again. This blog is my therapy now. No one can help me.

Just Not Quite Have the Guts Yet

I shouldn't be alive right now. I should have been dead yesterday. I wish I were dead. Writing it all here is a sweet release, I guess. Unlike others who already done it, didn't have an outlet to cope up. I have this blog. They didn't have anyone to talk to. What is the best way to kill myself?

Just May or May Not Be My Final Post; We'll See

Today's Wednesday.

I have a sure plan to off myself today. I am going to do it. Or am I? I'm still having doubts. What if I fail? What consequence would I face? I don't really want to do this anymore. I'm sick of everything. I'm sick of the cycle. The repetition. Everything lost its meaning (semantic satiation). I want to leave. I want to escape. This plan isn't foolproof. I don't think I'm planning this through. What if someone saves me? I don't want to be saved. I don't want to go to work later at 11 pm. I don't want to go home and sleep. I just want to die. Me writing this here will jinx all of this and maybe I'm going to survive to write another post tomorrow. There's still the voice inside my head that wants to live. I want to kill it. I want it to shut up. It's almost time to log out from work. It's almost time for my plan to be initiated. I wonder what will happen later. That I'd change my mind and just go home and play a game of DotA. We'll find out if I don't update this blog anymore. Everyone is expecting to see me tonight. Lol. What if I don't? What if I am? I don't know what to do anymore if I am. One thing's for sure; it's that we'll see.

Update: I'm not doing it.

Just Need To

I should die this Wednesday. I don't know what to do if I'd still live.

Just an Update from Yesterday's Post

I didn't do it yesterday. Something else came up. I might keep postponing it for awhile. But one day, I'm going to do it.

Just Listening to an Imaginary Friend

The voice inside my head is telling me to do it today. Maybe I will.

Just a Long-ish Post

Okay, so I reread my blog up until February 20, 2018.

I don't know what to make of that. My past experiences is somehow different from now.

I feel like writing right now but I don't know what to type. lol

I need to keep typing or else this blog post would be a very short one.
I guess it would be a short one if I stop here. Okay, wait, let me think of what to post here. Maybe I should write what happened yesterday? Yeah, maybe that.

I walked all the way from work to the mall. That took 45 minutes. I was just in the mood for it since my coworker could not go home together with me. I thought I would walk straight home, even though it would take too long. I even estimated two hours, and I thought walking for two straight hours would be okay. But then I thought otherwise when I reached the mall and decided to ride a jeep home. On the jeep ride, it was boring. Not much happened. I played Wordscapes on my phone and checked Facebook every once in a while. I kept thinking "could the driver drive faster?" even though he was already driving decently compared to most drivers. I watched each landmark pass by. lol I almost typed fast by instead of passed by there. When I got home, I said "JermaaaAAaainne (our dog)" as usual and patted him. (I'm not sure if I actually did pat his head because sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. My mother was usually outside when I got home but she wasn't then so I went inside our house. I then saw her by the bathroom and greeted her. I did the usual stuff when I arrive home then played some DotA 2. My mom kept nagging that I should go to sleep already since I had a sleepless night (working the graveyard shift and all) and I got pissed. I'm always pissed when someone nags me. Haha. I guess this post is long enough now so maybe I'll end this here? Bah, I still have some time to kill.

Speaking of killing, I might kill myself soon. I kept posting that last year but well here I still am. So maybe I won't be killing myself soon. If I write it here, then maybe it'll get jinxed and I'd be reading this post next year and feel surreal again, just like I did earlier.

I'm planning on not going to my psychiatrist on my next appointment. I think it's a waste of money at this point. I'm not even buying and/or taking the meds prescribed to me. I'm not taking them because I like me better when I'm off meds. I'm more quiet when I take them. I don't smile as much like how I described myself from a previous blogpost.

I like how people get surprised when I wear makeup. Just lipstick, actually, but still, makeup in general.

I suddenly became hungry. I've been typing for minutes now. I'll end it here for now.

Just Randomly Moved My Mouse and was Able to Draw This

Just a Dream Within a Dream

I just had a long dream. I want to take note every detail of it here but I'm too lazy. It involves some turtles, a shower, a lot of swinging back and forth, someone jumping beside me, a mass, waking up because I had to treat someone, thought I wet myself, thought I was drunk because I couldn't remember a thing, then waking up in real life.

Just a Flower (A Poem)

Once upon a time, there was a flower. This story will
not make sense since its protagonist is a flower. Are you
bored yet? So am I. I don't know what I'm writing. Best to
end it here.

But no, I must continue the story.

Once, there was a flower. Should I go describing the flower?
Should I create the setting of the story first? Or should I
directly go to the plot and then the climax to get this story
done with. It's not working because I keep typing my thoughts
along the way. The plot is a long way to go.

Anyway, this flower, it's in my head. It wants to be typed
out here. It wants to get out of my head. It has five petals. I'm
thinking purple. What type? You guess.

This isn't really about a flower. It's about me. How everything
isn't going too well. What makes me say that? Everything is
fine. But my mind says it isn't. I must find out why.

The flower starts to wilt from the cold, petal's edges
turning brown as time passes.

Just like me, just like all of us. Time is fast, time is slow, and
it is passing. I hate it when I can't express myself without
writing. I can't speak. I'm not good at impromptu.

One petal falls off. So do I as I jump from the bridge that I
keep imagining myself jumping from. Below the bridge is a
river. I don't know if it is deep... enough.

I never reach the water. Because the flower's stalk is still
standing, browning. The flower is dead, and I am not.
But maybe someday, I hope soon.