Today is the two-year anniversary of my last and almost successful suicide attempt.

I'd use a trigger warning but from this alone you can probably tell, if you're even reading this.

Realizing this while searching through some old data on my phone made me spend the whole day thinking on how things could've been, specially because of how much horrible things I've been feeling responsible for doing, by how I'm differently wired and interact with those I love.

Schizophrenia. Depression. Borderline. Anxiety. Autism. Not to mention my memory and communication skills.

For starters, these are but walls I have to use as stairways to get anywhere I want to. But this cycle of trial & error has been getting on my nerves since at least 2014. Ever since then I have been acting as a fake, bright smiling shell, carrying a prown in my face everywhere I go, to everyone I meet, filled to the brim with nothing but unsatisfaction or drained on the spot, completely apathetic. A tiring, unstable point of view. Failing love interests, friends, family, and myself. Destined to end up in jail sooner or later for the mildest to the most outrageous crimes, on purpose or not. I'm tired of guessing everything that's wrong with the human way of life, and being sharply correct everytime. Being able to see order where in the big picture there is only chaos.

I want to make a difference. A minimal one, in this small glance of order I see.

But I don't know where to start but... with myself. I need to achieve a mechanical heart, with a mechanical brain to do those things, or else everybody and everything else with broken frames of mind, blessed with ignorance and the birthright power of a raging kettle, will bring me down almost without even noticing my rammed corpse.

"Is it weird to not believe in the Apocalypse while believing in the Great Filter?"

Adolf Human-Scum just had one forsaken job, and yet he failed like the smooth brain he was*. And if I say I am not glad he did, just because of said results I'm about to mention being small in comparision, I would be lying. Chaplin knew this all along; He knew about the amazing minority of truly powerful, blissful and masterful members of our global and culturally diversed society! Those who would go on to inspire others to give bliss, to teach us all the arts of thought and perception to all kinds of '-ies', and to use their capacities in any way they can to achieve our mutual goal of a preservation, development, peace, tolerance and health where we can all enjoy how gratifying it is to help and act for each other through our own fundamental ways!

You know, I am a "Fake it til you make it" type. I know how my story ended up in the way I'm able to think today and what I want to do. Using a sharp tongue, a shaky right hand and my more functional in comparision left eye, I want to inspire generations to come, instead of being remembered as an example.

But...

How?

I mean, I DO know how, but happily I can't do it on my own... and sadly, I need to take the first steps before getting any support at all.

There is just so many people I have yet to list, again, in one of the many other lists I make in a week. So many people I want to base my work around, for the sole purpose of teaching children the amazing world they can perceive in any forms and how they can show them to others. From the flamboyant rich european blondie to the black forgotten african child with a parasite-filled belly.

And humor is my main weapon of choice to reach them.

...This hope rollercoaster is getting old. I should pick a side already. I mean, how can one be so... half-hope?

That is... what I love about chaos. There is no way around it anyway.

BREWSTICE

*Come on. He made the same mistake as Napoleon. What a dummy.