Why bother a.k.a. ABP Christmas edition

The time has come for big decisions. I feel it with every cell of my imperfect body. It’s just a coincidence that New Year’s Eve is just a few days away. Or is it so? I don’t know. I’m only 100 % sure that that is the reason for my restlessness. And I also know that I need help to make those decisions. And that it takes an enormous out of this world luck to come across such a person that can provide that help. And, boy, I do need help.

The first cigarette is crucial. If I don’t have it I can go without smoking the whole day. Once I light the first one I can’t stop. Compulsive smoking. It’s a sign for something. Who can tell me what it means? It’s a key to the problematic issues in my life.

I’ve lost something of value. I once again find everything, I mean, just about EVERYTHING meaningless. Once again I fear tomorrow and I dread each morning. It’s a catch 22: I need people to find some answers and at the same time I keep away from people because I’m ashamed of the way I feel. I dare to speak to no one but that is the only way I can find an exit out of that maze.

That is why I don’t write to some dear to me people; I’m afraid they'll misinterpret my silence as indifference. I love them…but right now everything I might say seems wrong.

When all hope is gone everything that happens is accepted as a gift.

All hope is gone.

Nothing happens anyway.

Questions, so many questions…why do I prefer to spend hours and hours in some cafés or simply roam the streets trying to postpone the moment when I’ll have to finally go home as if there awaits me some terrible danger? Why I feel as if I’m suffocating between those walls? But I don’t feel much better when I’m out. I’m always on the run…running away from what? Myself? It’s possible.

I swear, I did wanted my Christmas to be merry and jolly; I did mean all the “love & happiness” messages that I sent to so many people; I had the best intentions to willingly succumb to the spirit of Christmas. But it didn’t happen because I feel “over” many things: depressed, restless, desperate, hopeless, apathetic, lonely; I feel doomed.

“When we have everything why do we weep over the little we’ve once had? How it turns out to be more?”

I’m methodically killing myself and no one is trying to stop me. There goes the answer to my questions.

“exanimate”. Useful word.

For over a week I feel sick. Literally sick. My hands are shaking, I have the feeling I’m about to throw up. I’m not ill, it’s not a virus. My mind is sick.

It gets worse with each second. Once again I want to die. Unfortunately now there’s much less pose in it than there was before. Maybe I want it because that’s something I have control over. That’s due to my New Year’s resolution: to be honest. That’s harder than it seems. If I have ever had any fans now I’ll lose them for sure. Well, shit happens. Sorry, guys, being the egocentric I appear to be I intend to have it all for me.

Amazing what a few days of isolation can do. Isolation can be healing. “The serpent always claims she bites to heal.” That’s one way to say it. The bitten one would say it’s deadly.

I can’t remember the last time I smiled.

I look at people as if they are animals in a zoo; each one is in a cage that’s going to turn into a coffin. There must be some that have managed to escape, lucky bastards. I’m just a visitor here. I must have gone off at the wrong stop or at the wrong time.

Why bother indeed?