notes

They used to call me an asshole, but then I changed and everyone loved me…but I didn’t change, they just changed all around me and left me here so obscure and unrealized that I am ineffective and lame. They win…

It has been six years since I wrote that piece, I am better now. I have a good job and a good son. Other things have been hard, but the lessons I cherish, for my son.

I wrote that 2 years ago, wow. I never finished because my son had another attack. I’m not going to write the details. I learned so much about that damn disease…talking about it…fuck fuck I’m crying….I’m writing and I’m cryiy I fucking mis you so fucking muc

I am glad I did not scratch that out. It stands as a tomb. Fuck. Have I changed at all? Fuck

6 years. I have grown, I don’t feel ready to write this, but I have learned, it’s never about ready, it’s about progress. It’s about honesty with one’s self, should that be a possessive? Fuck, haha, at least I still get distracted, I can remember that about myself and thus I cannot lose myself. Fuck, I need to stop going to those damn meetings. It’s a fucking cult and I know it, in 10 years we’re all on some commune doing manual labor and getting fucked by our guru and god.

I feel good about this one. I think it’s the first honest one.

I am dead. I died. I am unhappy with what I was unable to accomplish. I am proud of what I did. I miss my life. I miss my friends. I miss the ability to love and be loved in a real and tangible place. There are different things over here, but sometimes they let some of us stranger ones try something stranger so they let me write in this worthless journal 1 last time.

this last entry has not been verified due to inconclusive results due to the nature of the medium the victim used to write on, could be forgery, all other entries proved accurate to timeline complied by Officer Richards, recommend further testing

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