I hate living but I'm not brave enough to die!

 There I said it. I don't know what else to do. I thought I would call either my bluff or God's by planning to commit suicide (yeah I sad it) on Friday, but it's not working.

My heart isn't even in it. (And it's a Sunday nearing 5p.)

The thing is I don't want to die. I just don't want to live this life. I want another one. I want the one of my dreams. The ones fantasies are made of. The one of fairy tales. The ones of your dreams. The ones you think no one lives but I think there are some people that do or else we wouldn't all be chasing it.

The one where you get to wake up everyday happy. 

Where you don't have to force yourself to be grateful. Where you don't set up alarm clocks or have to go therapy. 

The ones where work doesn't suck, life doesn't suck, your friends and family don't suck.

The ones where owning a home or living in an apartment doesn't suck.

The one where your life doesn't not make sense. (Yes, a double negative.)

The ones where all the parts of your life make sense and come together to make this beautiful story (instead of this ongoing nightmare thriller horror). You know your reason for living is clear and present everyday. 

Where your kids love you and do right by you. 

The ones where life just makes sense. It's not this assembly line of experiences and strife that you have  to constantly repackage just to make it make sense. 

But then I look up basics of Buddhism and karma. And like the first principle is - life is full of suffering. 

So is fantasy just the creative way to endure it all. To escape. Did the 2,000 years of history just give us fantasy as our only salve.

But why do people keep having kids! That's the part that I don't get. Why, though? Why?!

It's like the battered woman who brings MULTIPLE children into a domestic abuse situation - why. The way the rest of us cringe at that, that's how I cringe at the greater population of breeders. Why?! Make it make sense. 

So yeah, I got the permit, and I'll probably make a purchase within a year, but there's a 100% chance I'm not killing myself on Friday.

I rarely plan for the future these days, but I'm pretty sure of that. 

So while rereading a couple blogs that talked about the struggles with mental distress, I seriously thought about making a doctor's appointment to see if I could get a prescription for some meds.

Then somehow I stumbled on St. John's wort.

After way too much clicking and a few TV shows later, I decided if I got the pills I could get some Cookout.

So off to Walmart I went. Because the vitamins and supplement were in no sensible order whatsoever I almost gave up. But after way too long, I found some.

I decided to get some adult gummy vitamins as well. I figure I would need some motivation to take these capsules.

As I promised myself, I got $20 worth of tablets/capsules and some Cookout. I took my first capsule of St. John's word with a swig of icy cold Cheerwine. Mmmm.

The capsule definitely gets stuck in your throat so that seems problematic for a three times a day administration.

I saw online that there are 450 mg twice a day administration, but that was not what was available at Walmart.

Of course, next to the Worts, there was something called SAM-e, and 5-HTP, and ashwagandra that caught my eye. I kind of wanted to get all of them and wished I had brought my phone so I could look them up.

I was most attracted to the 1x daily dosing one but ended up sticking with the Wort. 

5-HTP looks a little promising as at least it's directly related to serotonin production. 

We shall see. I'm not that good at remembering to do stuff, especially chores like taking a med 3x/day. 

We shall see. 

Maybe I'll try to do the things on A Purple Life's list when she does her updates - like keeping in touch with friends and chatting with people. We shall see.

Right now, I'm hunkered in bed like I did last weekend. I keep the door closed for extra isolation. And I'm just watching TV and waiting to die.

It's like I'm not even lucky enough to get the electric chair, I'm the one who has to die this slow painful death in isolation. 

That's what people say on the true crime shows. Some want the death penalty, but some think rotting your life away in prison is worse. Because the death penalty is a faster release from this hell we call daily life. 

I'm in the camp of rotting away in prison is worse. You have to live everyday with your thoughts - is there anything more painful.

At least with the death penalty, you get to act on your impulses and hurt people that hurt you. I'm sure it feels so good in the moment. And then you get to let the world know all your pain. And you know what ever insults they hurl at you don't matter because you got to act out and bleed for all of them to see. You don't have to hide away and put a smile on your face. They see your pain and they know what you are capable of. They acknowledge the world is an evil place. There's no beating around the bush. Everyone is confronted with the reality. 

And then you get the solace of the death penalty, where it all goes away for you - forever. 

Sigh. 

So in playing Death/Life Roulette with God and myself, I was hoping either God would give me (free and clear) the life I imagined for myself with the appropriate accoutrement of feelings or I would be inspired to figure out how to live the life I want.

I got none of those things.

No surprises there.