Suicde For Breakfast
By RayDanger
Most People when they wake up, I would imagine, feel mostly energized from a night's sleep. I don't. At least not this morning. Maybe it's the alcohol still flowing through my system. Or maybe it's last night's band still keeping time in my head. I can hear the drums vividly. I count along.
One-two-three-four-and-one-two-three...
But anyway, I still feel tired. Probably because I slept too long. You always feel more tired on more sleep. Why is that? How come it doesn't work the opposite? I'm not sure how long I slept, either. I'm not sure what time it is. I threw out every alarm clock I had in my apartment and I don't own a watch. I have no use for time and time has no use for me. I'm guessing it's mid-afternoon. But, I could be wrong.
I haven't got out of bed yet. No reason to. No pressing issues. No tasks at hand to be done. There's just no reason to roll out of bed and start the day.
I'm depressed. I'll just lie here and stare at the ceiling and think about nothing. Or maybe think of a good reason to get up. Something to eat? Not hungry. Anything on TV? Probably not.
I once had a friend who was battling depression like me. Well not really like me. I'm not really depressed. I just tell everybody I am because it's easier to say and easier to analyze in conversation.
"Cheer Up!" they always say.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," I respond. That always seems to end the subject.
Besides, depressed people take medication for their depression to help balance them out. I seem to cope with it okay. I'm still alive. Barely, though.
What was I saying? Oh yeah. So I had this friend who was battling depression. And he told me this interesting story. Every mornig he would wake up with a cup of coffee and a shotgun. he would pull out his yellow legal pad and drew a line down the middle. On one side he would list all the reasons he should continue living. And on the other side he listed all the reasons why he should take this shotgun and blow his fucking head off. And every morning his reasons to live list was longer than his to die list. Sometimes, even by just one reason.
He would tell me that this was his miracle. Each and every morning God would send him his own little miracle. His manna from heaven he would call it.
Well that's all fine and dandy for him. But where's my miracle? I mean, If I had a shotgun right now, I wouldn't mind serving myself a little suicide for breakfast. And I wouldn't need a fucking list to tell me what the score is. I know my life sucks. I know I have no reason to live. I wouldn't mind being six feet under at this very moment.
Ah well. Time to get up. I'm bored with just laying here.
Did you like this story? All comments are welcomed.
By RayDanger
Most People when they wake up, I would imagine, feel mostly energized from a night's sleep. I don't. At least not this morning. Maybe it's the alcohol still flowing through my system. Or maybe it's last night's band still keeping time in my head. I can hear the drums vividly. I count along.
One-two-three-four-and-one-two-three...
But anyway, I still feel tired. Probably because I slept too long. You always feel more tired on more sleep. Why is that? How come it doesn't work the opposite? I'm not sure how long I slept, either. I'm not sure what time it is. I threw out every alarm clock I had in my apartment and I don't own a watch. I have no use for time and time has no use for me. I'm guessing it's mid-afternoon. But, I could be wrong.
I haven't got out of bed yet. No reason to. No pressing issues. No tasks at hand to be done. There's just no reason to roll out of bed and start the day.
I'm depressed. I'll just lie here and stare at the ceiling and think about nothing. Or maybe think of a good reason to get up. Something to eat? Not hungry. Anything on TV? Probably not.
I once had a friend who was battling depression like me. Well not really like me. I'm not really depressed. I just tell everybody I am because it's easier to say and easier to analyze in conversation.
"Cheer Up!" they always say.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," I respond. That always seems to end the subject.
Besides, depressed people take medication for their depression to help balance them out. I seem to cope with it okay. I'm still alive. Barely, though.
What was I saying? Oh yeah. So I had this friend who was battling depression. And he told me this interesting story. Every mornig he would wake up with a cup of coffee and a shotgun. he would pull out his yellow legal pad and drew a line down the middle. On one side he would list all the reasons he should continue living. And on the other side he listed all the reasons why he should take this shotgun and blow his fucking head off. And every morning his reasons to live list was longer than his to die list. Sometimes, even by just one reason.
He would tell me that this was his miracle. Each and every morning God would send him his own little miracle. His manna from heaven he would call it.
Well that's all fine and dandy for him. But where's my miracle? I mean, If I had a shotgun right now, I wouldn't mind serving myself a little suicide for breakfast. And I wouldn't need a fucking list to tell me what the score is. I know my life sucks. I know I have no reason to live. I wouldn't mind being six feet under at this very moment.
Ah well. Time to get up. I'm bored with just laying here.
Did you like this story? All comments are welcomed.
hawksley:
was that you? i was soo confused! come to coffee!