and wouldn't the sickest irony of life be that we don't find peace in death? i have become fixated on ending my miserable life. i told chnacat earlier that suicide has become my divorce - that constant alternative in the back of my head if this doesn't get better soon. and, inevitably, it doesn't get better and i don't think it's going to. and there are times that i want to do it for what i know are the wrong reasons - and i know what you're thinking. you're thinking that there aren't any right reasons, however, i don't think that's true. but i digress ...

there are times that in addition to my desire to just know some peace, for things to just be over, i want to do it as revenge on other people. i want to do it so that then they'll know that things really did affect me, that i did have feelings and that if any of them had bothered to bother ... and then force them to live with that. but i also know that they WOULD live with that, some might have difficulty with it but eventually, everyone would get on with their lives and i'd be the only one to have really lost anything.

the thing is, i don't always feel like i'd be losing anything and certainly not anything that would outweigh the fantastic possibilities of everything just being over. Gawd, to just be done; to admit defeat and walk away. it's shockingly appealing. to be able to finally surrender from a battle i never wanted to fight to begin with and say, "OK, Life, you win. You are the victor here, and although it's a role I've never cared for, I am, in the end, simply one of your victims. I'm done."

But what if Life wants to get one final, bitter laugh, which from my experience does not seem unlikely, and we find that we aren't allowed peace in death either. Rather, just a new kind of hell.

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