The Feather Boy

I know technically it probably wont work, but I finally decided the only way to “go back” and start again is to die in this life. I’m not sure what age i’ll wake up as, but i suppose probably pretty young.

I’m *not* suicidal, i’m not even all that sad, but there isn’t another way. I can’t exactly just disappear and de-age myself. This isn’t Harry Potter.

I need to get everything in order first, I’m not just going to drop everything, but even though i’m not looking forward to the process I’m excited to start fresh, as myself. I think I’ll be okay this time.

And if it doesn’t work, well, I guess I won’t have to worry about it anymore.

Does anybody know of the most painless ways in which to slip away? I don’t mean completely painless, of course, but I don’t reeeeally want to hurt myself. I just want to kinda- switch off. Power down. Permenantly.

Ninety minutes ago we were playing scrabble but I know in between rounds you were making your plans.

Ninety minutes ago you said goodbye.

Eighty minutes ago the nurses would have checked on you and all I can do is hope it was fast enough to save you.

You said you’ll whisper in my ear forever, whenever I’m playing scrabble, but I don’t think I’ll ever play that game again.

Once I would have followed you gladly but somehow I wound up “better” and you wound up back in that same clinical lounge where we first met.

At this point I don’t know whether I’m hoping for a phone call or not, so terrified of knowing whether or not you succeeded.

I’m not tagging this properly. Its disguisting. I’m body shaming myself.

After many many years of disorder, up and down weight, lAzInEsS, I finally ordered a full length mirror for my flat.

No more fucking up. This time it’s final.