I've guilted myself into hiding this all from Frank. He saw me depressed and he got me a ferret. I love taking care of the little guy but I'm still fucking depressed and I don't feel like I have a right to say anything because his reactions are so extreme to try and help me.
I had the most depressed birthday of my life. I tried so fucking hard to be happy. Painfully hard.
I've been considering carbon monoxide. It's supposedly a very peaceful way to go. I have a garage now. It would be simple. I think about it a lot. Just before I fell asleep, calling the non emergency police line from my cell phone. It would take so long to track up here in the hills, and Oakland is so slow to respond to anything less than open warfare in the street, that I wouldn't have to leave it to Frank to find me. He'd hear it from a cop. I thought about it a lot today.
I lied to my dad last night. I told him that I do not think about killing myself anymore. That it hurt and I didn't want to hurt anymore.
I sat in the backyard tonight, crying for no reason, hating myself for no reason, empty and broken and thinking about how my life has been plagued by these feelings for as long as I can remember. I don't know how I'm going to live a life always knowing that I'm a paperthin wall away from losing all of my joy. I know the things that make me happy, logically anyway. I know what they are but it is all just so gray and removed from actual emotion.
I'm old, tired, lonely and broken.
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