The words

So my husband said something to me. Which was if someone drowned me I would fight for my life.   

Well. 

Will I? 

Will I fight our just give the pleasure to the person that is trying to kill me…  I think suicide can be a lot like being gay.  Maybe it’s something you’re born with but taught it’s so bad don’t do it.  So youre wondering everyday when is that person going to come into your lif, that you long for.  That you fight to have.  But when it arrives it’s not like you think.  It’s not pretty.  It’s not sensual.  It’s dirty and nasty.  It’s something trying to take advantage of you.  

So this brings me to my favorite subject. Me. When I’m drinking and tired and feel like I’m too exhausted to be anything but myself.  Why?? Why?? Do I have a life that wants to end itself.  Why do I constantly think that life is something chosen.  I can end it if I want too. 

I empathize with a sad story but fight for people that want to live.  But when hearing about someone taking their own life, I feel a peace.  A sanctuary now between them and me. A life I fantize for but yet can’t come to a place of action. I feel like my pain could be explained and solved but yet never finding the answer.  I will be missed but maybe for the good of mankind.  The suffering of a selfish act maybe helping someone else to gain a life worth living. 

I say this thinking of my daughter. 

When we met I thought she was perfect. And her thinking the same. But once we got to know each other knowing better.  

Now I know why women have babies because they can start a new life every time they have a new life. 

That’s it for now.  Excuse the grammar bullshit but I’m getting out my thoughts. 

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