Replicant's blog: "The Watcher"

I should have died a hundred times. Most days I wish I had. The pain, constant, is the only thing I can count on in life. Hiding it from everyone, it increases until plans to end it begin to cross my mind.  Who do I give my possessions away to?  Who will take care of my cats?  Will anyone notice I'm gone?  Will I be remembered?

I've spent years trying to compile a suicide music playlist.  The music seems more important than the actual method.  The Cure, Nine Inch Nails, Alice in Chains...  Pills, gun, razor blade, bridge jump...  If it could only be as simple as "format C:/".

At this point, I can't remember ever not being in pain.  Was the physical pain caused by emotional or vise versa?  Does it really matter anymore? Ever present, it won't let me ignore it.  Stabbing, pulsing, throbbing, dispair, unlessness, failure...

I know I'm dying, it's just the when that's unknown. Am I worth more dead than alive?

I'm still here.