This is not a cry for help. Nor is it of any reason to be concerned. These are just, thoughts. Simple musings. Before you judge me, reflect on your own darkest thoughts we keep tucked away to yourself. Thanks.

I’m back in the town I spent the majority of my life in. A boring, quiet, small Michigan town where the the farm boys in high school think they’re Detroit gangsters and the only thing that really brings the locals together is marijuana. Or church. Or nude scandals from our one and only high school.

I’ve been thinking about the time I spent here today. Before my yard had a fence and a roof over the deck. When I’d dig a hole in the snow and lay there for hours to avoid going inside. When I didn’t have much of a voice and spent my weekends sneaking around watching my friends make risky decisions as I told myself, this is what teens do.

A light drizzle is going now, which is a huge relief to how surprisingly hot it’s been since I’ve been back to Michigan. (And people are doubting global warming still.) I think I’ve been reading too much, because I’m growing more and more restless each day.

I just finished reading Kurt Cobain’s Journal, and I’ve made a tiny start on Bukowski’s Tale of Ordinary Madness. My dad said to me I’m fascinated with weird people. But I told him it’s just because I’m not exactly all their in my head either.

Since coming back from Japan my family has commented on the fact that I’m a lot more forward. I already knew this. But for them I’m wondering how well they can all handle just how forward I am. I’ve spent the majority of my life almost mute to most. Talk enough to satisfy people’s questions. “How you been?” “How’s school.” But hardly would I share opinions. I don’t think a lot of people really knew me that well.

I was thinking about life today… and how it’s kind of just shit. I’m in this huge divide of life styles. One side of me there are families. Friends telling you that marriage and babies are the best thing to happen in their lives. (The ones that don’t feel trapped anyway.) Family telling me “You just haven’t found the one yet. You’ll change your mind.”

And then the other side that wants to live freely without commitments. No children. No spouse. Just enjoy whatever we can do for ourselves. I guess I’m on that side. There’s no reason to re-create. There’s plenty of humans as is. And the world just spirals down further into the garbage can that we ourselves turned Earth into.

After reading Kurt’s journal, aside from all the stuff on politics that I don’t really care about, I wondered, at what age would I feel fine with death? And I thought, you know, 27 isn’t that bad.

 I say all the time, “today is a good day to die.” People who don’t know me find this horrifying. But think about it, when a day is so grand that you can smile and think, yeah if I died right this second, I’d feel happy, it has to be one swell of day.

I think it doesn’t matter when I die. If it’s at 27 or if it’s at 45. As long as I lived.


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