what the hell

It's not that life is not beautiful. It is. The beautiful flowers, the warmth of the morning sun, children's laughter...just last night I spent almost an hour just sitting down by my window & gazing at the moon. It is so beautiful. It's not that all the people in the world are jerks. There are some very nice people who have crossed paths with mine, and I'm sure there are many more of them out there. It's not that life spits on me & makes me fall flat on my face all the time. There have been nice moments. So what's my problem? Hell if I know. And I have had enough, more than enough, of trying to explain to the walls that surround me. Walls that provide support when I lean on them, but still walls - cold, stark and sometimes so distant that when I try to touch them, I'd fall and yes, fall fucking flat on my face. Ups & downs, ups & downs. Emotional roller-coaster rides - my sweet ass. People who choose to wither and die like flowers - give them those emotional roller-coaster rides. They want it. They accept it. Me? I don't. Hell, I'd rather die from a cut on my wrist than to die of a heart attack. Fucking pathetic. A person who dies of a heart attack does not have a choice. I want to have the choice to die at the instant that I want to die. Capital letter I. I didn't have the choice whether I were to be born or not; I'm not given the choice whether I were to live immortally or die - I know I'd die anyway. So the only control I have over this beautiful and yet fucking pathetic thing called Life, is when I want to end it. But I have to make my decision fast. Or the choice might not be a choice anymore. I have to think fast. Act fast. So cliched. Yet so true. At least that's what I think.