i have been defeated. i can no longer go on. this could mean two things but no life is worth living it will not be life, but i cannot take my own life to risk what will follow. that's the only problem it used to be that i didn't want to die but now i do. i have no joy. i have no passion that can be named. everything i believe in pursuing every thought is so complex so individual it is completely inaccessible to anyone else. but any other thought is not a thought at all it is not real. i've lost my faith in the others, and i've lost my faith in myself. i'm so fucking far gone. i am so afraid. i am so afraid because this isn't a cry for help. i wouldn't be happy to see the people who only saw my joy and all the good things i seemed to do and say would miss me. i wouldn't be. i used to want to be killed and see everyone be sorry, when i was younger, when these weren't true cares. but now that's all i don't want. i just want to cease to be, because i cannot truly be anymore, it just doesn't feel real. and people, my mother, my beautiful mother tells me, you can't condemn people you don't know what they're thinking. but i feel that i do. and i really fucking feel it it's not some psychosis. but i guess it is.
i used to hate, and i guess i still do or would hate it when people say "you know that book where the guy goes crazy in the end?" and i would think for a moment and have no idea before the stuttered out "oh catcher in the rye!" and i would think. fuck. i don't even think about how he ends up in the looney bin because i thought he was beautiful and i felt like him. but if every other person thinks that then that's where i must be going or have gone to them. send me away. nothing will change. what could he have done. he felt down about it. he tried. he wanted to have a good time and he just felt disappointed. he tried but it wasn't real it was phony. and it killed him. it's killing me now.