i don’t want to be this kind of animal anymore

oncology appointment on the fifth, i’m hoping for bad news.

“allah yahdi bali”

i’ve been hoping for bad news ever since the onset of all this, i was disappointed to learn it’s not the very aggressive, insta kill short suffering sort of cancer.

sick to say i know, but the truth nonetheless: i was glad to learn about the cancer.

i’m more afraid to live than i am of dying from cancer.

living means more suffering, for a potentially very long time.

“it also means more of the joys and pleasures of life!”

don’t care. don’t want it, not worth it.

the good parts of existing, are not worth the bad parts, my brief and fleeting moments of joy never EVER make the suffering worth it. there was one time in my life where that was the case and i pushed her away.

“you’ll experience that again! there’ll be more chances to love, you won’t fuck it up this time!”

sure, we’ll be together forever and best case scenario one of us gets the watch the other die.

“no, best case scenario you die together and instantaneously in some freak accident!”

the best case scenario is hoping for a freak accident the odds of which i can’t even fathom?

don’t care. don’t want it.

high blasphemy: I don’t want my life.

that’s the truth of the matter.

I don’t.

“you’re a coward. afraid to live.”

correct! and a liar, a cheat, and almost all the bad things, so why are we trying so desperately to keep something like me alive?

“𝖞𝖔𝖚’𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖎𝖙 𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖙, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗’𝖘 𝖘𝖆𝖐𝖊.”

and so i am in chains.

“do not touch my chains.”

post script

Monday night means the whole cast of this sitcom friend group I’ve suddenly found myself a part of gathers in the apartment to play D&D or drink and watch movies, generally have a good time. My presence is desired but I’ve locked myself away in my room once more because I feel crazy, because I’ve been stewing and letting myself get angry at one of them for the way he talks to and treats not just me, but the rest of his friends and even his partner. I’ve been stewing, I’m angry, I feel crazy, I’m looking for a fight. I’m looking for an opportunity to unleash the kind of explosion that’ll alienate me from the friend group and make everyone feel unsafe, afraid of me. I know this about myself because I’ve done it a few times before. It’s a sabotage. I’m in a good place, with good people, I want to ruin it and put myself in a much more dangerous position, a position that’s more likely to lead to my death. If we’re all drinking, I know he’ll say or do something that’ll be just enough of an excuse, I will say horrible things to him, and I will hurt him. Not as much as I know I’m capable of doing, just enough to be able to get away with it, but enough to shake his confidence and sense of safety. Enough that I’ll enjoy the knowledge that he’ll have a moment of panic and insecurity randomly for years to come.I know that’s what’s going on, I understand myself a little bit better these days, so I’ve locked myself away. Some animals have to be locked away. Some animals can’t even be released back into the wild.

I don’t want to be this kind of animal anymore.

I don’t want to be anymore.