how many suicide notes have you drafted?

If I had to estimate? maybe thirty?

number 31 (my magic number actually, how fun!).

Ive come to realize that everything wrong with my life is due to my inability to really care for and about other people. To really care about anything at all really that doesn’t either spark my interest or raise my pulse. I can’t relate to other people. Sometimes I come close but there’s a gruesome prerequisite: They have to have been equally as brutalized and molested as I was, or they have to be this same kind of animal that I am.

Horrid basis for establishing connection.

Boredom,numbness,cruelty. Sinclair in three words.

I want to blame my parents, I want to blame the traumas. They do play a part sure, certainly, but in truth I was born like this. I was always aware, always conscious, always “bad”. Just because I can recognize a thing doesn’t mean I can feel it or suffer its consequences, yet still, I suppose I’m a staunch utilitarian at heart.

Here’s what I recognize:

I’ve been saying for months now that I feel myself getting worse. I haven’t articulated it well enough. As I age, as I consume and become bored of more and more things, as the walls start closing in on me, as the consequences of my former actions start nipping at my heels

I am becoming even more deeply apathetic to everyone and everything, colder, more callous, capable of sickening cruelty, cunning, vitriolic, and violent.

I’m really not even a person at all, just some sort of slithering thing.

Its graduation season. Prom, superlatives. etc etc.

I never attended any of these myself because by then I had dropped out and was smoking dmt out of a crack pipe behind a dumpster.

Apparently however, all these things have been deeply important to my younger sister, she’s sought my support and involvement desperately, yet even for the person I’ve paraded around all these years claiming to care maddeningly and deeply for, I can’t be bothered. I don’t care. Made up a lie to skip the family superlative night or whatever, asked if my attendance to her graduation was important to her, she replied “Yes, very!” that should have been the end of it, but I’m looking for ways to squirm out of it still, my current plan is to end up in the hospital for something severe.

That’s where I’m at, planning on how to maim myself deeply enough to warrant 3 days stay in the hospital at least to avoid my sister’s graduation.

Its not as though I’m doing anything important with my time either, I lay in bed and rot. Endlessly cycling through my various social media pages to see if anyone has left any sort of comment on any of my videos.

Comments on my videos, there’s something I really, deeply, care about, but not my little sister, not my family, immediate or extended. In fact, I dislike them all deeply, I sneer down at them and their zealous religiosity.

Hate and arrogance, because they choose a world view different from mine, a world view I readily admit, probably makes their lives much better.

My sister has this friend who’s been coming over quite frequently. Apparently a family friend, my mother claims she’s known him since he was a child. He’s three years older than my sister, and for some reason this has flipped a switch in my head where I just cant help but project my own traumas and insecurities.

“I’m afraid he’ll harm her in the way I was harmed, in the way I never recovered from, in the way that ruined me and my life, shes just about to start hers! I can’t risk letting this happen by any means, even if she hates me for it!”

Is the reasoning I gave myself for directing such incredible hostility towards him as to promise to kill him that night in front of my sister, my mother, and her friends. After which, I kicked him out of the house and forbade him from returning.

During the whole performance I said “she’s very afraid right now, because she knows how I am” pointing to my sister. “Yeah cus I feel like youre gonna do something!” she screamed.

I didnt acknowledge her. I then pointed to my mother, who was sitting on the floor after she had run downstairs quickly after my sister ran upstairs to beg her to come talk me down “she’s also incredibly afraid right now because she understands how I am”

The threats continued as I closed the door behind him. I spent the next three days lost in endless day dreams about seeing him back in the house, grabbing the wine bottle that’s been aging for 10 years in the house and some decades prior (It’s filled with water, I drank the wine and replaced the cork like 6 years ago and it’s still there, lace cover intact and everything) smashing the bottle on our cement stairs and facing him with a knife in one hand, bottle in the other, and using the jagged edges to cut my forearm and smear the blood on my face to intimidate him.

I whispered various speeches under my breath throughout the days about the combined mortality rate of slicing into both his carotid and jugular, I fantasized about having him roll some dice, telling him he’s unlucky no matter what he rolls, and then proceeding with my assault.

In these scenarios I would say things to my little sister like “please leave the room, what you see otherwise will traumatize you.” or something of that sort,and in the day dreams she begs and pleads with me not to go through with it, that he’s one of her closest friends and would never do such things. I look down at her and tell her I don’t care.

“My wrath, territorialism, and bloodlust supersede her wishes.”

When this was whispered to me from within my mind, I finally understood, the whole display of vicious protector wasn’t at all about her, I didn’t really care about her or her feelings to embarrass her that way in front of friends.

I just don’t care. not really. It was as everything always is, about my own satisfaction.

There’s nothing intriguing or sexy about being this kind of animal. I’m draped in misery, and I bathe in an isolation none of you capable of love can ever truly know. Do not mistake any of this for guilt,self loathing and/or pitying, its just another cold calculus, I don’t care about other people, but I also don’t actually care about myself either. I spare myself no pity.

So whats to be done about it:

Something like me needs to be removed.

Mine is not a life worth living. Its been characterized by lying,cheating killing,stealing, and destruction wherever I go.

I have never been faithful.

I have never been honest.

There are so many things I wouldn’t dare admit to. I’m not sure I believe in evil as others do— in that very thing I often find such intense beauty, purity,honesty. Yet, if such a thing as evil does exist, in an insidious way, I am it. A devil that wears the face of man and befriends them, slowly like a parasite extracting resources both material and otherwise. I cannot abide myself and my existence, yet still I dared to be blessed with far more than I deserve.

Just take my word for it, I’m not worth your time, sorrow,pity,affection, or admiration.

Whatever good I may have brought into your lives was borne of deceit,theft, cruelty and malice. Maybe that matters to you, maybe it doesn’t.

You should know its the case anyways.

The world would be a tiny fraction of a percent less shitty of a place without me in it, and to me that matters.

The utilitarian answer is to cut out the tumor, so the cancer may not spread and further devastate the lives of so many others.

so fuck it, I’ll do it myself.

post script.

always wanted to be a surgeon, well an astronaut before that.

never even came close.