Maybe Just to Listen, Maybe Only to Talk

I have to write this. Not later, not to listen, but right now. Everything I’ve said means everything to me and I don’t think you’ll ever know (I certainly don’t mean for you to). There are circumstances surrounding these events (the ones that haven’t, but will) that press down on me from all over. All sides. I intend to write this so that I can work back and re-know myself for a short period once more.

“If you’re high when you die, are you going to hell?”

There’s this inescapable feeling in my gut, you know when you just know? I wanted to get better for a long time, but I’ve been trying to die since I was 14 years old and now I have a 40-hour a week job. It isn’t even ironic. It fucking sucks. It is the slowest death, the one that eats your soul and your…