Death doesn't worry me. Not frightened of death. Excessive pain, loss of senses, paralysis, these conditions scare me. Dying is fine. Sweet relief from dealing with other humans. Quite looking forward to it actually.

My eyes have become progressively worse. Halfway through the day I can't focus properly. All therapies that have already been planned haven't been implemented yet. So, the sight could get better. Even though my rationality begs me to sleep, knowing sleep helps the focus, I can't sleep from worry over going blind. Sick and twisted part of the worry is being powerless to kill myself after going blind. Needing to learn to cope with no sight just so I can successfully end my life. My wonderful brain.

Not suicidal by nature. I refuse to plod on with a half life. No longer able to take in color would, in my mind, make me worthless. I don't hold human existence as precious, even my own. Life is a giant turd already, no need to carry on if the turd can't see.

What a basket of joy I am. Exactly the reason I will die alone. No one can snuggle up to a grump for too long. They all leave eventually. Luckily I enjoy my solitude. Will be no twelve stepping towards a happier me. Constant happiness is retarded anyway.

Fuck, I am in a horrible mood. Dank and dark.

Millions exist that probably have more turmoil set upon them than me. Doubtful they follow the trials of my life anyway. Doubtful I am whining to those that have it worse than me. Orphans sleeping on a manure mattresses, kicked awake by the martinet that harshly controls their freedoms don't have the luxury of understanding what an internet is. So fuck it I will complain.

Don't know if I'm actually capable of love. Love within a relationship anyway. I felt empty when my dog died. I felt rage when I discovered some chick was cheating on me and subsequently dumped me for the guy. Never loved her though. Eventually grateful she's gone. Don't even know if love exists. Just because a bunch of poets with lutes declared it was so one day.

I desperately want to devour every woman I find attractive. I don't want to possess them. Control them maybe. Possess never. Chicks need that shit. They need to feel that the man in their life has a vested interest in her heart. That your lifeline is fused to theirs. Siamese souls. I'm too selfish for that crap. Too cynical. So they bail.

The broken hearted won't line my death bed with withering orchids.

My folks and my sis would probably be insulted to read that I consider my imminent demise as a lonely event. Wouldn't be able to stomach the sorrow in their face as my last breath escaped. Don't believe in the other side, no need for them to chaperone me towards it. Fuck. Scattered.

I am just miserable at the moment. Crawling on my belly through my oil slick. I dunno, something has to snap. Solo death fantasies fucking with my walk. Goddamn miserable.