August 10, 2024, Saturday.
Henderson, North Carolina.

People want the right to commit suicide every morning. I should be able to blow my brains out every morning. Having only one right is unfair.

Attention, attention, attention, attention. Everyone wants attention all the time. Me most of all. But not your attention. Not ordinary attention. I want everyone’s attention, the attention of the whole world.

I want to be God. I am God. God’s birth must have been like this. That’s why humans created God. They attributed their own powerlessness to him.

I am so powerless. I am so helpless. With what I have, with what remains, I can only make one whore smile for five minutes. Yet there are whores I would die for. Many of them. One life is not enough.

And in the end, I am worth nothing in the eyes of whores. You devote your whole life to them, and they begrudge you more than five minutes of a smile.

I am devastated. It’s devastating. I’m not devastated just once, either. I am devastated every day, every night. Just like I wished for in the beginning. Just like they take my life away every day. Just like they blow my non-existent brain up again and again every morning. I am in pain. I am crying. I am ashamed. I am not dying.