I’d been considering killing myself today. It was something that I’d been on the fence about over the last couple weeks or so. I mean, it’s always in the back of my mind, but I guess it had moved up to the front more lately. Why on Christmas? Why not? It’s not like I have anything better to do (aside from seeing True Grit, maybe), and everyone else would be busy with family, friends, and all kinds of stuff that has nothing to do with me. I figured I would sort out what I needed to sort out, and when the time came, I would just kinda go with it without disturbing anyone.

I don’t have a specific reason as to why it didn’t happen, but I suppose it relates to Darwin. When I quickly think over the list of what I have to live for, mine is a short list that contains only Darwin. I feel a certain sense of duty to be around and benefit him in any ways that I can. But at the same time, I can’t tell what real benefit I am anyway. I mean sure, I’m free child care all the time, but that doesn’t benefit Darwin as much as it does the other adults in his life. And while it helps them, and maybe Darwin, it leaves me completely unable to lead a normal life. And don’t get me wrong, this isn’t THE reason, but it’s a big factor in my life sucking. Recently I passed up a chance at what was a pretty good, stable job. It paid well enough for me, and provided benefits and Summer’s off. Had I taken it, my work schedule would pretty much match his mothers, which means I would hardly ever see Darwin. So, while I would have more money and stability, I would still feel like shit all the time. So I passed, since I feel more strongly about my time with Darwin than I do about money. So here I am, the dirt-poor stay-at-home single Dad of the year.

All that is but a fraction of why I know I’d be better off dead. As I look around every day and see the state of the world and people in it, I just feel the urge to vomit all over everyone. For the most part, it’s just full of selfish, insincere, hateful monsters running around being shitty to one another. And shit, maybe I’m just one of them. But not a single day goes by that I don’t see some real life horror story that makes me want to cry and blow up the whole world, just to cleanse it. For years I tried to distract myself with things like my art and music. But now even that stuff just feels like another frustration. I don’t reach anyone with it. I don’t make the kind of art or music that people like, and I guess I could try to do that, but… well, it hardly seems worth the effort to cater to such a fickle audience that I have nothing in common with. In fact, it seems as though I can’t find anyone that I have much in common with at all. I’m forced to exist in these shitty suburbs that I hate, and the people around me just are not like me. They don’t like what I like, do what I do, or feel how I feel. Like, ever. As white as I am, I always related to the character Bigger Thomas, and the way he felt surrounded by the big white world. It honestly feels like I’m on some alien planet where I don’t belong. Whatever.

Anyway, I’m still here. If there were a god I’d be praying for some early, peaceful death by mysterious natural causes. But there isn’t. Trust me, there isn’t. So fuck Christmas.