Call me Heaven//oh,ma douce souffrance…

“Diaries are friends of last resort” rings true in my mind as I come here once again to vomit out whatever nonsense is circling the drain that is my head. I’m listening to Ethel Cain’s Televangelism as I am writing tonight, and I’m writing because (as is the case with many nights that I find myself adding yet another entry into this here apocrypha) I am lonely. Apocrypha — loaded word! Stuffed with meaning and implication.

Anyway, lonely, as always. I’ve said it before that perhaps the last noble thing I can do is to never inflict myself upon another person- I’ve come to realize that there may in fact be two noble things.

I. don’t inflict myself upon anyone romantically ever again

II. stay alive despite feeling it’s my destiny to end it all this year so as not to cause the suffering of those who know of and care for me.

It is arguable though, that second one. The longer I’m alive the more people will worry, the more bad deeds I can and will get up to, etc etc. I wonder- is the net benefit to my continued existence truly worth it? will greater harm be done, even if by accident if I stay alive than would be done if I die and people mourn but eventually move on with their lives, never having to worry about me again.

The argument could be made that I could do a lot of good as well with my existence but I truly do find it less likely, despite wanting to. If I was rich i’d start a global organization of housing and rehabilitation for those struggling with poverty and homelessness. Sincerely! that’s been a long time dream of mine,i truly have no taste whatsoever for designer clothes, luxury items, super cars. Not even an iota, but who knows, Ive had many good intentions that led to quite negative results.

I digress. As I was saying, I’m lonely. My roommates invited me to play a board game called LIFE with them, i initially agreed and then thought better of it— best to avoid playing games with the one i’m doing my best to avoid getting into a fight with. His shitty, petulant little temper tantrums come out most often during games i’ve noticed, and i don’t trust myself not to get angry and destroy what is otherwise quite a lovely living arrangement. Sequestered from the game of life so i don’t cause any harm, to the others, to myself - the irony is not at all lost on me.

I hate watching that couple be affectionate with each other anyway, all that lovey dovey shit and baby talk disgusts me really—i’m also quite jealous. When i think about them clearly and logically, relationships are not desirable to me in the least bit. I hate being beholden to anything or anyone, i like to come and go or linger as i please, my need for variety and variance in the lovers i take is seemingly insatiable, im seemingly incapable of true commitment, etc. etc. myriad and endless personality traits that are incompatible with the sort of relationships i idealize and fantasize about being a part of, so i can’t be in a relationship and yet i yearn for one.

there’s how i feel about myself and my as of yet incomplete transition, there’s the cancer and the certainty of my doomed, short lifespan, all massive deterrents that hinder me from earnestly engaging with the people who signal their interest. download the dating apps, get a handful of likes and matches, really hit it off with one person, talk for a while, maybe go on a date or two, let it fizzle out, delete the dating app, rinse and repeat.

i have given up on ever seeing or speaking to my previous partner ever again, despite the intensity of it all, despite it taking two years and more extreme circumstances to finally enable me to get over them(which i finally am for real this time i promise!) but i must admit, i can’t help but compare every new prospect to them. the connections are never as immediately familiar, the conversations never flow as easily, the rare and impossible to capture or describe wholeness i only ever felt with them is simply absent.

are soul mates real? is it possible for things not to work out with your soulmate? i had an ex who for a while insisted that i was hers, and i can’t blame her for it at all. we were quite good friends when the relationship was still a living thing, not just a usually fondly remembered corpse. we didn’t work out however, and she’s married now. i wonder if she feels like her husband is her soul mate.

i keep seeing memes and videos about people marrying whoever came after the one great love of their life, i wonder how many people are married to people they do not feel are their soul mates, maybe you can have multiple soulmates— that doesn’t feel correct to me though, not that i know anything, i don’t know shit about fuck.

except that i’m a huge idiot a lot of the times, that i really feel like … buh, i don’t even really have the energy to describe how little i care about most everything these days, how deeply i lack the energy or desire to argue, i know how just…tired i am all the time. i know hell isn’t real but im still scared of it… and what else?…

i know that despite being over it, i miss taking digestive walks after every meal with my lover in one of the neighborhoods i grew up in.

Miss you. Would like to take a walk with you - is the name of a poem i came across today- i know it really stuck with me.

i also know that im just too constantly sad to live much longer like this. i watched a documentary today about oklahoma, the southern baptist church, so on and so forth.Theres this one pastor who was at one time quite popular but was ousted and fell from grace because of his belief that there is no hell. without the promise of hell a lot of modern day models of christianity and the morality that most people base their lives on simply crumbles apart — (people really hate when you make their world crumble apart fyi!) he preaches that their duty as christians was not to save people from a hell in the afterlife, but rather the hells on this very health that people suffer through due to poverty, illness, or the ignorance of their fellow man.

i exist in one of those hells. a hell of endless despair and impossible agony. i howl into my pillows and bedsheets nearly every night, i often pray for salvation, i pray for death, anything to end this nightmare of being sick both in heart and mind to a silent universe. there is no answer, there is no salvation, i continue waking up and i exasperatingly continue to burn in this hell that is arguably of my own making.

“𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊?”

it would look like a digestive walk at sunset, after a truly delicious meal cooked in tandem with my soulmate.

post script

even just talking feels so exhausting. i’m so tired. Anyways, I’m gonna eat some girl scout cookies, drink a coke, watch family guy, then get some shut eye. who cares about my agony, who cares about my despair? who cares about me at all? certainly not i!