Layaway Options

Just smoked a cigarette at five in the morning- 5:29 AM in Seoul city to be exact.

Not yet asleep and not planning to anytime soon.
And the thoughts are back- as if they ever left.

I don't know what people want. Or maybe I do.
Either way, I don't plan on giving it to them because in the end, it's not what I want. I simply wanted to get out. Coming to a foreign country was supposed to be my second option and I got it. It just doesn't seem to suffice. All I wanted was to be somewhere different- wake up to something new. Whatever it may have been- I just wanted to be happy.
Back at home and here in Seoul, I can't seem to find it.

As much as I say I'm in love with my misery, it gets sickening.
Everything is just so utterly pointless and I can't help myself for being so damn jaded.

Happiness is an illusion and I suppose this is the reason as to why so many people commit suicide.

All I really wanted was to be happy but how can anybody be happy when happiness is not even a possibility. I don't understand why people simply can't seem to get it.

I'm not fucking depressed, I'm not fucking sad, I'm not fucking anything. This is me. This is me "happy," this is simply me. I just wanted to get out and wake up to something different- I just want to get out and wake up to something different.

It's not so much that I want to die. It's a fucking scary thought- that maybe I'd wake up to something worse, but it's a risk I'd take.
There's so much that I'd miss, but what the fuck is a person to do if it just isn't enough?

A Kind Hello From an Insomniac

"And I apologize for my awkward sadness"

I do, I really do.
I am currently in the motherland- reasons unbeknownst even to myself. But I'm here and I can't go back because my parents can't understand.

And since this blog is completely private and not anybody's business but my own, I'll just go right and say it: I got caught trying to kill myself.
It wasn't the first time and now, it certainly won't be the last time.

I don't really know why I ended up blowing up- maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the people, maybe I was really just sick of being so unhappy all the time. Nonetheless, I had a breakdown right in the middle of a party and I couldn't get out of my funk so at three in the morning, I took a cab home that cost me $120. I don't know why I did it and why I couldn't just have gotten a ride from a willing friend- I had to be alone and I really was done with myself. I don't understand what had triggered my neurotic behaviour.
But I got caught. And now I'm here.

Missing the shit out of my misery.
I'm in Korea. To get away from the people, the drugs, and the familiarity of my life. I'm away from everything and everyone that had "made" me miserable- I'm still miserable, but not enough. How naive was it to think that I could runaway from it? If I even want to be away from it.

I want to go back. I want to go home.

Back to my misery and back to the state of mind where I had the guts to press down on my wrist.

As I sit here with absolutely nothing to be miserable about- my mind tumbles and tumbles, creating more reasons to be miserable. I didn't runaway from my problems because my problem never leaves. I came to Korea in hopes to become better and get these thoughts away from me- but I'm sitting here, creating problems because that's what I do.

I don't know how to be happy.

And maybe that's because I don't want to be happy.