The quiet place

I cant seem to really find a way to deal with the idea of death.

Its funny that for so long i wanted to kill myself and die, but I obviously really didnt want to do that, because if I had really thought about it long enough, Id be fucking scared to…death..?

I just don’t comprehend it, any of it. We are born to die. We are born to die.

we.       are born……. to fucking die.


what is the point?

why do we have to suffer or succeed to just end up dead? We all try to fit into some weird box that everyone else is in, but oddly we end up there anyway, when we die.

When I was a teenager my grandparents died within 10 months of one another. It was a weird confusing time, everyone was sad all the time but I didn’t really understand, I was only 16. It seemed like a movie or something like that, not real. Then my friend Dan died when I was 26 and that was devastating, but also confusing because I hadn’t seen him in a long time and had moved friend groups, so it wasn’t so in my face everyday…Then fast forward to 40, where now I am actually dealing with actual death, oddly from my dog. She is the one living thing that was with me everyday and now is dead and gone. I actually get what it mean to be gone, even if I kinda glossed through it and went back to my normal life like it was nothing. But I have noticed the tiny cracks everywhere since it happened. I do not feel mentally okay in certain aspects and in others I feel more in control than ever. I still drive around with her bed in my car, and I cant seem to get rid of it. Its been 4 months. I have never felt so alone. I know I will get through this and come out stronger and everything, but the day to day is rough and quiet and lonely. The quiet is the hardest part. Do I even exist?

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