Can I Hire A Hitman To Kill Me - Blog Posts

I was... Familiar with the grief box? There's a box in your head for the horror you've been through. In each box there's a button and a bouncing ball. When the ball hits the button you get to feel grief and pain. Over time the ball shrinks, but never goes away.

It's not like I was abandoned this time. But it looks like a duck in the distance, and stinks of a duck, but is walking only a little like a duck. Maybe I won't be fully abandoned this time.

I'm just not strong enough. I wrote my first draft of my note. I usually feel a little better after doing that. It's weird, I know. This time it felt different. It's a good thing my state has real good gun control. Too bad there's other ways.

I'm not allowed to be fulfilled. Not allowed to be happy. I am allowed grief and trauma. Parents made sure of that.

Not like I have a future. I barely have a present. You should read Midnight Nation. I think if it wasn't for one person I would have slipped through to that side.

Nobody cares. Nobody. Why would they? They have good lives. I'm stuck. They have all moved on. I'm stuck. That's a good way of putting it, but like most quick phrases it misses nuance.

I'm in the back of a concrete mixing truck. If I stop moving, stop the drum from spinning, the concrete will get hard and I'll die. If I try to get out, the concrete will get hard and I'll die. So I'm alone walking in that drum. Nobody to talk to. Nobody to care. Why would they? I'm not even sure I'm human.

-C