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[m4sk3d-7h0ugh75]

Well Past Midnight

It's late May and I'm lying in bed, nearly midnight. I've been putting off my summer semester work and playing games all day. At the moment, I'm playing Stardew Valley on my Switch. And as I'm spending a full in-game day mindlessly placing Casks in the cellar, I'm letting my mind wander, A common occurrence with A hyperactive mind. Naturally, it ends up spiraling to the one place it always goes, suicidal ideation, or more like thoughts of my death in general, how people would react, and such. I'm not sure if I actually want to die; the thought fills me with too much existential dread, but my mind ends up here often. I'm not sure why I can't afford to see a therapist to talk about it, so I decide to do something I don't really do. I start to write. I've never been good at writing, I'm horrible at completing ideas, and overthink my grammar so much I end up hating it. To this day, every story I've ever written is sitting unfinished in A bunch of Notebooks and scrap papers. Mostly handwritten, of course, I've always found it easier to focus on paper than a Keyboard. I think back to the suicidal daydreaming again. It goes the way it Always Does, an announcement that I've died- rarely given A cause- and A flash of Reactions by the people I know- though I’m A good bit aphantasic So it's basically A fuzzy dark image thats hard to make out- my friends, teachers .. that's About it. It lately ends with everyone being shocked and distraught at First, but then quickly moves on. I am just a passing moment in their lives. Something to move on from. Life goes on. I find it almost narcissistic to think about them being affected for the rest of their lives. It is healthy to heal from things like that. I Remember A story one of my college teachers told in class one time about how he saved A student's life by calling in A welfare check on them. He had effectively prevented that student from killing themself. He says that sometime later he saw the student again and they are happier and thankful he did that. But they tell him that when it happened, they were Angry At him, hated him even. He sounds offended when he tells this story. To him, they should've been grateful, who wouldn't be, Right? He saved their life. I bite my tongue. I understand why that student was upset. They had Almost Achieved Relief From All their suffering and were then forced to keep going. But I Say Nothing, if I were to say this, I would end up with “THE STARE”. The one that people give when they're wondering if they'll have to make that call for you. My Hand has begun to cramp from writing, it's well past midnight now, closer to 1 Am. I know my hand wouldn't cramp so much if I didn’t hold the pen so tightly but I still do it. Nothing else feels comfortable.

[i apologize for the weird capitalization, i scanned in my handwriting and got too lazy to fix it]