7/8/18 -- 1:00 PM
I don't want to die anymore. Or rather, I don't want to be dead.
I've decided to quit smoking. Because I don't want to kill myself.
This change is horrifying. Hopefully, it pans out. Why is it horrifying? I
think the answer to that is intimately tied to the reasons I don't want to kill
myself anymore. McKenzie. It's scary because I feel like she shouldn't
be able to have this effect on me. She makes me feel better, want to be better.
It's gross and she's gross and I'm dumb and
The last time this happened she killed herself and my life was thrust down a
perlous mineshaft for four years
I'm not ready for that again.
But it doesn't have to be that again.
I can do better.
I can _be_ better.
It _will_ be _better_.
My life is tangled up in so much anxiety and excitement right now that I don't
even really care about all the bad things anymore? I mean, I've always felt that
way. Only now, it's rooted in something else. I'm not ignoring it because I
can't handle it. I'm ignoring it (not even really ignoring it; I'm unphased by
it?) because I'm too happy to care.
This is the existence that I have always wanted.
I don't want anyone to take it from me.
Not even me.
So I'm taking away my power to kill myself.
I am doing otherwise. I am making a change. not because I have to, but because I
want to.
Need to.
Is this partially due to sobriety?
I wonder how much alcohol has effected me. I guess we'll find out what a year of
sobriety does to me, huh.
I'll probably have to tell McKenzie.
I'm gonna be more open. Honest. Thoughtful. Caring.
What am I doing.
I wonder how I'll look back on this moment. This feels like an important one.
Let's hope it's a good one.
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