it's algorithmically verboten to talk about suicide now save for vague "awareness-raising" fluff posts but in these waning days of quarantine before we "re-open" to business as usual, can we talk about how living in a broken world makes it hard to see a point to going on living?

i don't want to softpedal or equivocate here: if you know me you know i'm all-in for degrowth, utilizing ancient and modern indigenous practices to revitalize the world, dismantle the empire, break capitalism's fingers in the chokehold it's got us in, kill white supremacy etc.

but it is fckin hard to wake up every day in this world, in this timeline, in this year, these days that run so slow and then so fast... march went by like a century and then april fleeted by in an accelerating curve because when things are the same every day, time goes faster.

i was so ready for these days. while you studied the blade i learned how to time travel. i bent grief into mobius strips and folded the alternate universes in on themselves and still i fcking ended up here, now, marooned with you on this fragile disintegrating life raft.

all the fckers who said "we are the virus" i blocked, the past month i jettisoned so many people from my circles on here because these days have pulled away the veils and the really evil fckheads are really coming out of the woodwork now. it's time to protect yourself, bigly.

but, ok, still i'm waking up like... why the hell am i still here? why do i bother any more? i wrote my book which explained all this stuff perfectly well, i don't need to hang around to make more content that's just gonna vaporize in a year or two anyway. bones is my destiny.

there's this little hope i have that "things get better" even in small ways, i watch for the signs at the edges where things begin to turn, for a tide to go out and then come back in. and i don't see that. our collective reality, it's not going that way. it's all a slow death.

and if that's the way things are, i get tired waiting for the slow death. hurry up and take me. sitting on my ass inside watching my siblings get sacrificed on the altar of "essential" jobs, seeing the great wealth transfers, getting left out to fend for ourselves... why stay?

if i'm such a gross burden on "society", if i'm so disgusting and a waste of flesh, why stay? i'm a stubborn motherfcker but i can only take so much knowing that the powers that be just want me dead... before i decide to oblige them. i'm so tired. let me lie down with the moss.

a vague stubborn idea that keeps me going is that i shouldn't give these evil fckers the satisfaction of knowing they did me in, as if they'd ever even hear my name. but i'm just in a holding pattern now. i don't remember the last time i was this deep in depression. maybe never.

if it's just crisis upon crisis until the one unspeakable Great Crisis finally does us in, what is there to fight for? i light these little candles of hope and try to shelter them, and they all get blown out by winds beyond my control. or perhaps there is beauty in a lost cause.

well i'm guilty of what i said i wanted to avoid. all of this is softpedaling in metaphors, orbiting the true body of ideas i want to manifest in words. even this thread only adds to the noise that troubles me so much. names can name no lasting name. i'll stop talking now.