Suicide Is Painless

"See ya."

Through early morning fog I see
Visions of the things to be
The pains that are withheld for me
I realize and I can see...


That suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please


The game of life is hard to play
I'm gonna lose it anyway
The losing card I'll someday lay
So this is all I have to say


Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please


The sword of time will pierce our skins
It doesn't hurt when it begins
But as it works its way on in
The pain grows stronger...watch it grin, but...


Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please


A brave man once requested me
To answer questions that are key
Is it to be or not to be
And I replied 'oh why ask me?'


And suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please


...and you can do the same thing if you please


~ Marilyn Manson


I was going to tell you guys about this absolute diva brat that works for Dreamgirls and her outrageous behavior over the past few weeks, but I’m not really in the mood anymore.

I really wanted to write about something positive, to give you guys some good news about how I am getting better and how much I love life and how grand I think people really are inside, but it’s just not in the cards.

M called tonight. We were supposed to hang out for the third time this week, but I didn’t hear from him after school like I was supposed to.

He finally called at 10:30.

“Hey baby, where have you been?” I cried when I picked up the phone.

Silence. Then, slowly, he sighed. “Hey, baby.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked sharply.

Silence. Then, “My parents were here tonight. They were bitching at me for over an hour.”

My stomach sank. “About what?” I asked stupidly, since I already knew. It was pretty goddamn obvious.

“About you,” he said. “They were bitching at me about you.”

His parents had seen the random evidence of my being in his house over the past few days, and came tonight to confront him. They don’t want him to start seeing me again, apparently. He can do better. They don’t believe I am ever going to get well. My problems are too great for me to ever get past them. I’m not good enough for him, or his daughter.

I stopped him there. I didn’t need to hear anymore, I’m not retarded.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said softly.

“Whatever,” I said, walking outside and lighting a cigarette.

“Do you want to hang out tonight? I could still come over,” he offered hopefully.

“No. I don’t want you to,” I said absently.

“Baby, don’t be mad at me,” he pleaded.

“I’m not mad at you,” I muttered tonelessly.

And I’m not. I’m not even surprised, really. I’m just...ugh. I don’t know.

No one thinks I am going to get better. Not my parents, nor M’s parents, nor Gigi, nor M, nor anyone. No one believes that I can survive my past to beat my eating disorder and overcome my problems with substance abuse.

Not even me.

So if none of us think that I can do this, then why are we all wasting our fucking time? Why doesn’t everyone just fuck off and die, and let me do the same? I asked all of you to leave me the fuck alone, and you refused. But if you don’t even believe in me then why the fuck are you hanging around?