i finally went back to disneyland the other day, if not only for downtown disney. it was really, really fun, i had ice cream and my friends null and phone got comically large lollipops. dog boy went with us too, which was nice because i got to rest with him when he was sitting down. i drove like, 700 miles. i am so fucking tired dude. my legs hurt, my knees hurt from work. my hands are beginning to callous, and i am becoming bitter. every day i am surrounded by people at my job who dont like their lives, and i'm tired of acting like it's okay that they use that as an excuse to take that out on the lower employees, or the customers even. it isn't okay, and that is just how it is. i don't like hearing it.
i'm rewatching star wars again, which is making me quite happy. it will always amaze me how people manage to say it "isn't a political series." die. kill yourself.
new garden album came out today, it is so fucking good im losing my miiiiiind bro. i can't stomach the thought of going to see them again live though, all the venues they are playing at near me are 1000+ capacity. nothing will ever beat seeing them live when i saw them at a 200 person venue.
a buddy of mine wrote a poem and it made me almost cry but it made me want to write a poem about if i had succeeded in killing myself. it was something i'd been putting off for an extended period of time but it sounds like something i'd confidently do now, so i guess i could try.
sometimes i wonder what the world would do in my absence. would it still go out of its way to provide its strongest people with horrid nights? or would my death cause it to feel it had done enough? would that be the last grievance it'd ever cause?
would my conscience, curled into the fetal position on the bathroom floor, dying in tandem with me as if i was looking into a mirror, persist? would people remember? would the friends i'd made, cry?
would anyone listen to my down playlist and wonder if i made this while thinking about killing myself? would people check my last fm, only to realize i had left the song redwood colonade on loop? it'd still be looping somewhere, on some obsolete device who's only purpose would be to stream that song.
i'd hide it far in the floorboards so that the people who loved me could have some semblance of normalcy when checking my streaming activity, somewhere where it wouldn't be disturbed, but it'd stay alive. not like me.
braver than me. stronger than me. alive, not like me.
would my parents find the things in my room i hid from them? the things they weren't supposed to see... the condoms, my lighter, the vape they thought i threw away years ago... even though these things weren't used, would they be disappointed? would they think that maybe it was their fault i'm gone? "maybe the stress of hiding these things from us was just too much for them..." they'd say. maybe they'd have something more to say?
would anyone think about me? would anyone cry about me? would anyone mourn what could have been? would the people who did me wrong regret it? would the people who scraped me off the ground hold onto me emotionally? would the cleaners take that weight home and beat their children because of it, perpetuating the cycle that i longed to escape from and end? because if that's the case, it wouldn't end. it would just move to a different family. then what?
would my family have still moved away? would my sister have gone to oregon? would she have broken up with gerry? would the people i'd not met mourn the loss of something they never knew?
i ask these questions, but i know the answers. the world would have continued. i would have had my moment of silence, my day of mourning of whoever chose to be there, and it would have been bullshit. maybe there would have been a school assembly for me like there was about the boy scout. maybe someone would cry, but probably not. nobody there really liked me anyway. maybe someone would be glad. but i guess it doesn't really matter anymore, does it? it's not worth thinking about, truthfully its just a waste of time.