A bad day is coming. Look for a newer post, if there is one then I lived and all suspense can be … suspended. I had my cereal this morning, and I’m out of honey; I used the last of it.

I will get some more today. I almost certainly will not die doing so. I will not go fishing for the trope of feeling suicidal on my birthday. I see that lumpy milestone coming a mile away. But honey … dear Lord. Running out is not the problem, it’s already happened, just a few hours ago, and I’m fine. I’m FUCKing fine.

But later today I will be in a supermarket and I’ll be in front of the shelf that has the honey on it. Fuck I don’t even want to have to go. I’ll choose from the selection. Are they not all the same? I don’t care. Yellow box? It makes me want to cry, they’re just bees, right? It’s the time that gets me. A birthday, that’s yearly, but running out of honey … I don’t even know how long it’s been. A month? A few? A year? How long does it take for me to finish a packet of honey, how much time has passed since I last stood at this shelf like a dickhead wondering which honey is the right honey for me. What have I done while that the last batch of honey slowly drained from it’s stupid upside down packaging?

I don’t know. I don’t care.

It’s inevitable, I will buy more honey today, and I will buy more honey when I’ve finished this. And another after that.

Is it even called a packet?



My life is awful. It really is terrible. Everything is turning to shit and I feel like I’m going to snap. I give it a week. I don’t know who I’ll go to then.

Parents are an obvious choice but they don’t need the worry. And Erica (the girl of my dreams) would never actually know, I’d just not be at the other end of the line any more.

I don’t know what form the snapping will take. I’m planning the note. I’ll mention the voices, that I tried. I really did try.

I’m thinking about the people who will read it. Do I make sure I’m logged out of my gmail before I go? People don’t need to read how pointless everything I’ve ever said is. Do I cancel, like, electricity and internet and stuff? What if I chicken out at the last minute? I imagine that last thing one needs after a failed suicide attempt is to call the gas company and have to wait at home between 9 and 12 for a guy to come and read the meter. Do they think I’ve got nothing better to do? I’m not trying to be funny when I say that the administration side of things is a significant deterrent.