The loneliness is so often overpowering. I wake up in an empty bed once again as I've done for most of my adult life and then I make coffee and breakfast for one. I have no texts to respond to and the only new emails are from marketers, creditors, spammers, and scammers. I read each one just to experience something more than emptiness for a few minutes, then I delete them all and go back to staring at the wall wondering what wrong I committed in a past existence to deserve such suffering in the present. I must've done something hellishly bad. But here we are and I want to improve. I desire change. I long to strengthen my mind and I wish I could become a better person. The only issue is the loaded pistol on my nightstand that keeps finding a way to point itself at my head. There are only two people who even know I own the thing, and neither of them seem to realize how many times I've purposely flagged myself with it. I can't afford the therapy and meds I clearly need but it's probably for the best because no psych has ever been more than the briefest of help and no pills have ever done anything save stack up in the cabinet and eventually offer themselves up for an overdose. I'd rather get plastered and hurl words into the wind. It is, somehow, the only thing that has kept me alive for this long. Writing. There's something about expressing these raw emotions in a public way that gives me a sense of accomplishment and progress. Whatever's going on inside my head doesn't want me to feel either of those sensations, but with writing I can wrest away just enough control to keep going. Or at least that's how it feels to me. There is of course a chilling alternative to what I'm interpreting as leverage, and that is the simple possibility that whatever's going on inside my head merely enjoys prolonging my suffering. That's a hellishly bad thought and I try not to dwell on it too much which is good because you shouldn't you sad lonely piece of shit. One of these days you'll find the strength to pull the trigger — but not till I'm done with you.