Sometimes I just want to kill myself.
This isn’t a suicide note. It is a journal entry.
I soemtimes just want to kill myself in the same way that I just want to go to bed. I’m tired. When I’m tired, I just want the day to be over. But sometimes it is a much more overwhelming tired and I just want IT it be over. I’m just life-tired and I want to sleep and not wake up.
I just need a longer sleep–more time spent in dream-land.
Wouldn’t that be awesome if when you die you just go into your dreamworld?! It would be evern more awesome if you are a lucid dreamer and could craft that world and its activity any way you desire.
My body just needs rest. Stress-rest. Mind-induced wear and tear on my body. My mind worries so much in a constant state of anxiety that it wears out my body. And that builds up like trash in the wastebasket until it is overflowing and need to take it out–to empty it. My choice is to empty it in my sleep–in my dreams.
I’ve tried emptying it on others. That isn’t fair to them. Or to me. When I sleep-thoroughly sleep–I feel my anxiety waste is getting taken out. And not just put in a landfill of the mind. Rather, it is recycled and reused–repurposed into my dreams. I can take that anxiety, fear, worry, doubt, insecurity and transform it all because I give it over to my subconscious who can’t recognize the difference between pleasing and painful sensations. My subconscious is my soul-lover and it makes restorative love to my mind that releases the tension of my body in deep sleep.
I really hate when my sleep and dreams are inturrupted or cut short. It is like a partner finishing before I do–I don’t get that release. I’m left even more agitated. I’m left with a sressful and tense body and and anxious mind.
All because my soul didn’t get that ecstatic orgasm that occurs when my body and mind are given the permission I desire right now–to give up on life.