At night is when I think about killing myself…brief thoughts. I think about my life now, and the times my mom hit me when I was little. Fierce hitting that comes from being mad about something else. I want to escape all that shit and die so that those fuckin’ thoughts die too. No more self-disappointment. Death cures.
Not being loved by someone and failing your potential makes you think like this. I’m going to buy some new work clothes tomorrow. Maybe it’ll make me feel better. The cardio is working. The skin underneath my chin is tighter. See, for a minute there, I didn’t think about being better off dead.