My dog won't go poop.
That's the least of my troubles, so I figured I'd start there.
In other news, Andy Griffith is dead as of this morning, and I've also become privy to the fact that a man was handcuffed and shot in the back of his head on his own porch after calling the police himself. He was being chased. He called the cops, they came, they cuffed him, they shot him in the back of the head. His cousin was at the house. So was his brother. So was his mom. She was in the house when it happened. A loud bang from outside, and her world is completely changed. Right outside of her door, her son was cuffed and murdered, execution style.
I tend to not give a fuck about shit, because the world's so fucked up that I can't place fair focus on any one thing, but that shit is weighing heavily upon me. It makes me not want to be black even more, now. How the fuck am I supposed to feel walking around in my native country, fearing that if my life is endangered, and I call the cops, that my life is no less endangered? The outside world is scary as fuck. I can't be scared, though. Because whatever happens will happen. The fuck am I gonna do? If it's time to die, it's time to die. The ways people are going, though... Still going, to this day... I just really don't know, in general.
The other night I got high after taking some medication, and I had this momentary, intense feeling like my lifeline was being severed. It felt as if I was slowly fading out from existence. Of course, that was just me being high and freaking out over the head rush, but now, days later, I realize why that little moment was so heavy. In that moment, I didn't resolve to meet death peacefully, I started to panic. I clutched my head as if the nature of my being were trying to escape from it, while forcefully repeating to myself "I'm right here. I'm right here". It was an intense moment, and the scariest part of it was that I was completely and totally alone. Not just in my room, but...period. Completely alone. If I were really about to die, it would just be me dying. By myself. No one going through that same moment with me. No one else in my head telling me it was going to be ok. Just me, alone in my own private universe, witnessing its end. My own personal death. It's a fucked up feeling/realization. I've heard it many times: "You're born alone, you die alone", but to actually feel the gravity of that shit? FUUUUCK that feeling. Forever.
I will never be ready for death. Period.
(Parting thoughts)
Honestly, what is this existence? Grand cosmic happenstance? Divine manipulation? What?
Is someone pulling the strings, or are we just an accidental creation, like Reese's peanut butter cups?
The world is too much right now. I hate it. I honestly do. I'd check out*, but I fear death more than I fear life.
Fuck this, I'm taking a nap.
I need to enjoy this storm while it lasts.
[X_X]-A.P.
*'check out' I.e., suicide.
That's the least of my troubles, so I figured I'd start there.
In other news, Andy Griffith is dead as of this morning, and I've also become privy to the fact that a man was handcuffed and shot in the back of his head on his own porch after calling the police himself. He was being chased. He called the cops, they came, they cuffed him, they shot him in the back of the head. His cousin was at the house. So was his brother. So was his mom. She was in the house when it happened. A loud bang from outside, and her world is completely changed. Right outside of her door, her son was cuffed and murdered, execution style.
I tend to not give a fuck about shit, because the world's so fucked up that I can't place fair focus on any one thing, but that shit is weighing heavily upon me. It makes me not want to be black even more, now. How the fuck am I supposed to feel walking around in my native country, fearing that if my life is endangered, and I call the cops, that my life is no less endangered? The outside world is scary as fuck. I can't be scared, though. Because whatever happens will happen. The fuck am I gonna do? If it's time to die, it's time to die. The ways people are going, though... Still going, to this day... I just really don't know, in general.
The other night I got high after taking some medication, and I had this momentary, intense feeling like my lifeline was being severed. It felt as if I was slowly fading out from existence. Of course, that was just me being high and freaking out over the head rush, but now, days later, I realize why that little moment was so heavy. In that moment, I didn't resolve to meet death peacefully, I started to panic. I clutched my head as if the nature of my being were trying to escape from it, while forcefully repeating to myself "I'm right here. I'm right here". It was an intense moment, and the scariest part of it was that I was completely and totally alone. Not just in my room, but...period. Completely alone. If I were really about to die, it would just be me dying. By myself. No one going through that same moment with me. No one else in my head telling me it was going to be ok. Just me, alone in my own private universe, witnessing its end. My own personal death. It's a fucked up feeling/realization. I've heard it many times: "You're born alone, you die alone", but to actually feel the gravity of that shit? FUUUUCK that feeling. Forever.
I will never be ready for death. Period.
(Parting thoughts)
Honestly, what is this existence? Grand cosmic happenstance? Divine manipulation? What?
Is someone pulling the strings, or are we just an accidental creation, like Reese's peanut butter cups?
The world is too much right now. I hate it. I honestly do. I'd check out*, but I fear death more than I fear life.
Fuck this, I'm taking a nap.
I need to enjoy this storm while it lasts.
[X_X]-A.P.
*'check out' I.e., suicide.
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