Stitch Can't Sleep #6: an early suicide note

i’ve always had a fascination with car crashes. something about it excites me. a peculiar sensation of dopamine rushes to my head and i feel as if i am flying. but the only i’m going to go will be horrific, tragic, and devastating. something along the lines of my car getting t-boned, or driving right into a truck. i’ve lived a pretty normal life, i want my death memorable.

i don’t see myself growing old. i don’t see marriage, grandkids, even my future. i don’t see one night stands, lovers, boyfriends- it’s just empty. 

sure, i investigated in my own form of ruin-age - i guess it allows me to feel: lighting a fire and putting out the flame on my hand, rubbing sharp objects on my body, and ironically my favorite, sitting at the bottom of a pool until the oxygen stored in my lungs gives out. i don’t see my life past high school. maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be, just a surprise. 

everything is a blur right now. i’m just in cruise control and i don’t know when to turn it off. picture this: high beams in the fog- that’s where i’m at. but strangely, i’m scared of the truck that’s heading my way.