After spending the last 3 month’s in my small studio apartment in North West Florida, having moved away from my friends and family with about three thousand dollars which I stole from my father and 4 thousand I had in the bank. Poor guy he though the money was going for tuition and supplies. Little did he know when he wrote out the check that his son was packing his computer, clothing, and a few other “can’t live with out items” bong, pipes, ect. and depositing the money on 2 months rent in advance, food, alchohol and varius drugs.
Anyway, I have come to realize I am getting closer to the point of self destruction. Now im not looking for sympathy, I just want someone to listen, but I want to do it in a way that I won’t have to hear argument if I choose against it. So let me start with my maelstrom of whining now that the begining is out of the way. The last 4 or 5 months have been pretty hard. My girlfriend of 4 years took her own life on January 4th of this year. Her mother, and the only thing I had to remember her by followed her three days later. No one knows why Michelle killed herself not even I. Two weeks later, I was notified that I have a small growth close to my optical nerve. I took this as a sign. That wherever Michelle was, she wanted me with her. So I took my shit and headed south. I’ve been here long enough that the growth has started giving me dreadful headaches, blurred vision, and constant nausia. I have long, deep conversations with my mother in my dream’s. She tells me that she loves me and the pain wont last long. I dont know how much more I can take. I wake up late at night and im so dizzy I fall the second I stand. I just sort of lie there hoping that I can fall asleep on the floor without having to go piss. The past few day’s I’ve been weaker than usual. I sleep about 15 hrs a day and my vision has become terrible. Now im at the “I’m making a fucking mistake” point. I want to say fuck it and just die in this cold fucking place but the part of me that envision’s my mom, dad and sister standing over my coffin crying. I dont know if my Mother could take it. But, I think its to late for me to be saved. I have little money to make it home on. And if I do make it home what the hell would happen then. I would be put in a fucking hospital bed and kept there until I either die or they preform mirical brain surgery, which would most likely kill my ass anyway. All of my emotions are turning on me. I cry all the fucking time. I laugh at thin fucking air. I fight the call of sleep due to the fear that I might not wake up. But what can I do. Last night I went to the bar down the street to have a few.. When this fucking backwoods country fuckhead starts giving me some shit. Saying “Hey boy, we dont welcome satan worshiping faggots like you in our bar” So without thinking I hit him with my beer bottle. One hit was all it took and I was out. I still dont know what actually hit me, all I know is I awoke in the back of the bar bruised from head to toe. Leave it to hillbilly’s to beat the shit out of you when your unconcious. Anyway Im went home, doped up, went to sleep, woke back up, and here I am. Typing this to you, making my nightly attempt to fight the sandman. But I think it is just about time for me to call it quits.