For some time now, I’ve been saying I need things in my life to change. Most things in my life, as a matter of fact. What people don’t realize, what I may not have fully realized until recently, is how desperately I really do need things to start happening, and happening differently at that. I don’t think I can even try to explain the urgency I am beginning to feel more and more with each day, but that won’t stop me from it. Most of my days are wasted. Not in the sense that may have once meant, or may mean again someday, but I do feel it’s true. I am trying so hard with everything. I’d like to say that I’m trying my hardest, and even pushing myself further than that, but if I admit that’s true, I’m admitting just how much of a failure I am. My hardest isn’t enough. It never has been, and I don’t know that it ever will be. I really hate that expression. “I’m trying my hardest.” Your hardest only has limits when you give those limits to yourself. So, if that were really true, that you were trying your hardest, you would be succeeding. I’m starting to realize the things I’m willing to compromise to get to where I need to be. I can’t handle these disappointments anymore. No, disappointment is not the right word. I am not simply disappointed in myself and my failures. I am disgusted. I am sickened. I am angry. I am hoping I will be able to use this to my advantage. It’s like Malcolm X said, “Usually when people are sad, they don’t do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change.” You know, I had a migraine for most of the day, and as the day went on, it continued to worsen. Something happened at some point that put me in a mood. Not necessarily a bad mood, but a mood nonetheless. I couldn’t think right. I couldn’t feel much. I was just in one of those places. I got in my car, and I started to drive. I still couldn’t feel much, but I still did feel that migraine somewhere inside of my head. I should have let this numbness overpower me, because maybe it would have numbed the pain away. Did I do this? No, of course I did not. What did I do? I turned on the radio, and I turned it up. I unrolled the windows, traveling down the noisy highway at 85 miles an hour. Anytime I’d get near something particularly loud, like a group of bikers, I would slow down enough to hear that noise. Did this help? Of course not. It hurt. Like Hell, or maybe more. But soon, I was feeling again. I was climbing out of that state and in a place where I could actually think straight, where I wasn’t just stuck inside my head with nowhere to go. Speaking of things I do while driving, I do a lot of thinking while I’m driving. I do a lot of driving in general, so this makes sense. Still, more of my reflections take place while driving than while sitting in a dark room. It isn’t just the serious thoughts though. I have a lot of strange visions and imagine things that you probably wouldn’t. This may make it seem like I’m not someone you’d want to be on the road with, but I’m actually the safest driver I know. Anyways, back to these images. For example, quite recently - I won’t try to pin down when exactly it was, because time is a blur to me - I was driving on the highway. Quite fast. Suddenly, a car ahead of me slammed on its breaks. Hard. And it stopped so fast I thought I was going to hit it. And the car behind me was going so fast, I thought it was going to hit me, and I’m sure the one behind it was doing the same. There you have at least a three or four car pile up, and casualties would be a certainty in such a case. It didn’t happen. At least, not really. But my mind my suddenly went there. It saw me hitting that car. It saw the one behind me hitting me. The steering wheel collapsed and pierced my chest. Death was almost instant. The wreckage was brutal and bloody, and the cars got so backed up that it took hours before my emergency contact got to the scene. Of course, I was long dead by then. And I remember her seeing my body. And I remember me thinking, Damn. The only person there is to call is someone that I don’t even like, someone who is hardly a part of my life at all. I kept seeing these images in my head. Don’t get me wrong… I knew they weren’t real. But a big part of me wished they were. The only thing wrong with this is that my head soon turned these thoughts to ones of surviving such an accident. Living through the pain wasn’t what was terrible to me. It was that once again, Death would have eluded me. My sweet escape would once again be dangled right in front of me and then taken away. I don’t think it’s very natural to want to hurt, or to cause yourself unnecessary pains. Then again, I’m not very natural, am I? And yet I am. I am human - for the most part, ha. I’m just a twisted one. Still, I can’t say I don’t do unnatural things, or think them at the very least. I’ve always had this inside of me, the need to hurt, the need to feel pain, because it’s one of the only things I ever knew how to really feel and recognize as a feeling. Feeling meant I was alive, and at the same time, it was a reminder that I didn’t have to be. I still remember my first attempt on my life ten years ago. Ten fucking years ago, and I am still here. Another point of just how much of a failure I am.
Actually, I know I could do it, if I really did want to. Maybe the others were just ways to see how far I could go, how much I could push my mortality without actually succumbing to it. I keep the idea stored away in the back of my mind. From time to time, it cuts to the front of the line. I once had a very specific plan drawn out in my head. I knew what I would leave behind. I knew how I would do it. I even tried to pin down an age that I would be ready at. Of course, this was years ago, and I was young and didn‘t know what I was talking about. The note was a pathetically bad poem that I thought would be creative and expressive. The method I planned to use was horrific and ugly, and not a way I’d ever want to be. The age, well, that’s just silly. Either I’ll have done everything I want to do, in which case, I will be older, much older. Or, I’ll finally give up. I’ll finally join that group of quitters that I’ve always avoided like the plague. Honestly, if it’s this route, it’s going to be sooner. Much sooner. Especially at the rate things are going in my life. So, yes, I really do need things to start going right for me, because if they don’t, nothing will be going for me at all.