Never really finished this, lots of swear words, suicide, enjoy!!

INTRODUCTION

A circle; it tends to defines me in more ways than just the shape of my body. That one circular motion, the one that leads me to the same spot every time, to see the same scenery over and over again. Repetition. Life in Olympia is ****ing bleak. Gray skies and shivering rain year round, could I really complain?
There are no opportunities for an average 25-year-old male in a culture chock full of average adult men. What a ****ing waste of time for all parties involved… With only a miniscule portion of the populace having anything truly productive to do, the rest of us are left behind to our ****ty circles. Wake up, work, sleep, wake up, work, and sleep. Nothing but a ****ing circle, a simple shape. My life.


PART ONE, LIFELESS

Could it get any worse? The question I seemed to ask myself every morning. As I sat at my little table, in the middle of my small apartment kitchen drinking my coffee. Black, of course. It seemed to remind me of what was to come in the inevitable end of my god-awful excuse of a life. I could almost laugh at what I’m doing with myself…
Where was I every night? People seem to wonder the same thing I did. I was behind the screen of an old laptop, the one thing that seemed to except me the most… Spending most nights all over the vast web we like to call, the Internet. The Internet seemed to provide many comforts to my uncomfortable life. Providing sexual favors, comedic relief, and other sorts of things. Now believe me when I say this, I have “real” friends. What is “life” without meaningless acquaintances?
Well, probably what is defined as “empty,” which was a feeling I was all too close too. An empty fridge, something I was also used too. While on the subject of eating, I don’t do much of it. My stomach was the only real thing I ever liked talking to. We exchanged words every now and then “How are you feeling today?” I curiously asked every so often. I would always get the same growl, or rumble. Eating wasn’t important to me in anyway. I thought, “if the hunger got to me before I did, no work would be involved.”
But I always seemed to give in, barely feeding myself properly. Just enough, too pull back the feeling of monstrous hunger. I couldn’t seem to avoid the occasional bowl of Ramen Noodles, Pop-Tarts, and whatever junk I could consume. The way I’ve lived my adult life is that of an 18 year old, getting out of the house for the first year of his life. No cleaning was done, I lived off of junk food, my laundry was spread through my room, and my bed was unkempt. I was a goddamned slob, bent on ending his own life.


PART TWO, DETERMINATION TO DESPERATION

Well, most would agree that there is a distinct difference between determination, and desperation. What was determination? Determination, something that eventually turns into desperation. Simple enough? I was dead set on changing my life around for… Obvious, reasons… Find a House, buy a Car, steal away the Girl of my dreams, earn enough Money to pay for all of the above, and the list could go on… But for now, I was determined to have those things.
What more could an average 25 year-old male possibly want in his average life? But the determination, eventually turned into that nasty word desperation. I found myself in a ****ty single bedroom apartment; hating every moment I spent looking at the peeling mint green wallpaper, piss stained carpets, and flickering lights. No matter how much I would clean, nothing. I lived in a permanent **** hole. My attempt at women usually ended up with me in bars drunk, Desperately looking for that woman to bring home to his poorly renovated apartment that she would find herself disgusted by in the morning. The girls I ‘ve previously brought over would leave in the mornings without waking me up anyways, so I actually wasn’t sure of their reactions…
I’ve stuck to prostitution for some time now. Not for the sexual relief, I had hands for that. But, I brought these *****s home with me to keep me company. I needed a woman in my life for some time now. But these girls had no idea how to be a woman, most addicted to some sort of drug, most just desperate for the sex or the money, and others trying to get by, feed their children, and whatever bull**** stories they could think of. Those were the ones I paid just a bit more. I didn’t mind the cost though it wouldn’t matter soon anyways.
Money? Well, I laugh at the idea of myself having anything of the sort… I pulled in a little bit more than minimum wage? $8.35 I believe. Where was this desperation coming from? Probably from the lack of any positive feedback I was receive. It seemed like success would elude me a bit longer… Just long enough to through desperation in its place, leaving me to be its plaything.


PART THREE, A BULLET THROUGH A FLOCK OF DOVES

The pain was awful, the emptiness was taking over; I’m a shell of the man I used to be… Nothing was helping the insensitive, apathetic feeling I had towards almost everything. Life was losing its touch. Matter of fact, everything was. I began losing interest in my daily rituals. My constant Internet use wasn’t so constant anymore, my food consumption sunk lower than usual. The feelings of hunger arouse, but I just wasn’t up for it. I was more interested in sleeping my days away, it was the only way I could seem to waste away my days… I sunk deeper into this self-set depression, something I’ve mad all entirely of my own ****ing problems. No one really had any say in how I would feel, or how I would deal with how I feel.
This was just beginning to become a thorn in my side; my sobriety was beginning to bore me… I haven’t touched a bottle of alcohol in ages; I told myself I didn’t need it, because I didn’t. But I needed some other type of distraction from this circle. I haven’t really talked about my circle lately… I’ve begun to get used to the whole idea of circling around myself. What’s the worse thing I could say? Most people can’t honestly say they knew what tomorrow would be like. I could though life was simple and bleak. I had nothing in the day to do; I even quit my job sitting at some boring old cubical. Cliché? Very, It almost strikes the definition of a depressed adult man. Boring job, No money, No sex life, Constant sleep induced mini comas, Unshaved, Droopy eyes…
It all seemed pointless to me, almost like I was running after something I couldn’t kill, firing at any chance I could get. Happiness eluded me in any way it could. Hiding behind Online dating, Friends, Job opportunities. All an illusion, anything and everything I thought I had. Simply fell through the cracks…


PART FOUR, DEEP DESCENT


Where was I going? I understand I’m repeating myself, a circle. Remember? I was falling deeper into the deepest of crevasses my mind could create. Depression was storming the beaches of my mind, leading me into a war against myself. Fighting away the urge to blow my ****ing brains out. Twelve minutes. That’s all it’s taken. I’ve journeyed too deep within myself. I had a date tonight; I had to be in my best mental state, and look my sharpest. I’m going mad. I’m going mad. I’m going ****ING crazy... My thoughts are that of a Twelve-year-old girl. All over the place,  

I read it through. Wow.  

Posted by CourierSix

I read it through. Wow.

wow..?