Fucking Suicidal

I wanted to write about how terrible my life is.  I wanted to write and to document the abuse, the manipulation, the unspoken pressure, the torture I am living in, but what is the point when nothing I write here actually changes anything.

I change my driving route, the gas station, the soap, the I walk into work, but nothing changes anything.  Everything stays exactly the same.

I should be able to tell a man no.  I should be able to say I don’t want to be a part of your family.  I should be able to get another job that I can actually live off of.  I should be able to keep a man out of my life that I dumped years ago.  I should be able to say I never want to see, or talk to you ever again David Wolfe.  I should be able to say I never want to know Edison outside of his disguise which is why I pretended I didn’t see you or David when I was at Home Depot.  I should be able to say I never want to see, talk, or know James Franco ever again.

I should be able to have some say in my life, who is allowed to see me, and who I want to spend time with and what man I want to spend my life with…but, I don’t.

I would rather die than continue living like this.

No one cares.  Everyone at my job is there to laugh at me and make fun of me including every celebrity and famous person I have ever seen or talked to.

I have no means to get control over my life again or anymore, so I would rather die.

It’s not like anyone reads this anyway.

My life has been nothing but a lie and a deception since 2012.

The last thing I need is someone else’s deadline, goal, or timetable I have to meet instead of being able to make decisions myself.

Someone stuck a receiver in my head or stomach so they can hear my thoughts, or I am a crazy person either way I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.  I don’t see a point living like this.

The world is better off without me.  Adios.