Written on 10 Mar 2011 in Mosul, Iraq.

--10 Mar 11: Mosul Iraq--

I have no other template to write on, so I'm forced to write on this. One of the rare times I choose a computer over the paper. I have noone that will actually be able to hear what my thoughts are saying, so I must scribble them out to myself to reflect upon at a later date. I'm scared. Scared about many things. My main concern is that I'm losing my friends. I'm losing my ability to love. I no longer have joy in my life. Just daily motions that bring about anxiety, or release. Nothing beyond the constraints of medeocre. I used to be teaming with energy. Emotion. At times I felt like a volcano about to boil over with frustration, or desire. Now.....I honestly can't find a path in life. I feel like if I got all I ever wanted in life, it wouldn't cause a change to anything. We're all stuck in our paths and there is nothing that can change our direction. Will I ever be able to truly love again? The kind of love that consumes the heart, the soul, the mind? My soul is empty. My path is a curt circle. Alone I wander around and around expecting it will lead me out of this melloncholly alcove. There is no going forward. There is no going back. There is just the pitiful now. The human existence is a wasteful mistake. There is no creation. There is only death. Sad, sad death. The point of life is to die. The only truth is death. Sadness....and death. Everything else is a fearful distraction from the truth. The truth that every one of us will die solidly, and soon. I want to die right now. I've always had a problem with patience. 80 years of hollow existence is a heavy burden. When I'm looking at two roads the choice is hard. One....sweet permanent death. The other...uncertain bull shit that will consume and demand me to be what I don't want to be, do what I don't want to do. I only have 1 life and why can't I control it? Why? Freedom has been what I've been seeking my entire life. I will always be a slave to something my entire life. There is no point in reproduction, there is no point in continuance, there is no cocuun transformation waiting. Just death. I'm staring at death and I want it to come. Now is better than later. Now I can get it over with. The sooner I go the sooner I will be forgotten, and the sooner those who knew me can move on with the rest of their lives. They've all been fortunate enough to be blessed with ignorance, and love. Don't know why I was cursed with the truth, and isolation. While I'm still here my hunt for the answer will continue. I wish to fall into a deep coma, and never wake again. What will be able to distract me tomorrow? What illusion of purpose will hold my attention? I hope that one day I have the ability to drain the disease that floods my soul. Now I am tormented with sadness.......hollow....Left to follow.....Desire for alcohol and heroin still call to me at night before I'm able to sleep. Seems the peaceful and proper way to go. Overdose on bliss.....What other choice could a hollow empty life make? Gluttony could be what frees me. I'll never be able to show anyone this writing. I've been able to pretend I can feel up to this point. Quite remarkable. Where does this deep void come from? What is the difference between my life now, and the daily routine of a mental institution? Heavily medicated has an appeal.... For now I'll keep stretching my lower back, because it doesn't help get rid of any pain, and I'll keep writing to myself, because it doesn't do anything to make me feel better. My two releases aren't even for me....I wish to drown in alcohol. The proper way to die.

Fuck everything. This is all a waste of my time. I've been writing this same shit for over 10 years. I hope I choke on a piece of bread tomorrow. At least if I die now my friends/family will get paid. Boo frickin' hoo. More wasted days here we come.