Mania, depression, drug abuse, and murderous intent.

For He so hated the world that He gave His only begotten Life, so that who ever believed in Him shall not perish but suffer in eternal torment. Of course, one can never listen to the demon that not only inhabits, but manipulates one's mind. Manic-depression, schizoaffective disorder. alienated sociopath, and generalized psychopathy. These are a few run of the mill labels I've been given in order to better describe the intense rage I feel. But, I know better than they. I am simply a tedious Borderline personality, with a case of mild assburgers disease and ADHD.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with these ramblings because I'm not even suicidal at the moment, although, I'm past due for another psychotic episode that leads to some kind of hatred projected out or inward.

It seems like every time I'm crashing from a hypomania or drug use, I end up reminiscing back to when I had that silver .45 to my temple...just saying "Get it over with already, Christ, you know you'll never get to be a real person with all that left frontal lobe scarring. You don't get to feel without a high dose of amphetamines or MDMA, and you don't know what it's like to have a relationship in which you're content and don't need to manipulate and hurt other people to get your rocks off."

I suppose I just felt like getting it all out there. You can only tell your girlfriend that you have your 5/50 cord ligature, 00 buckshot loaded shotgun, or gas can ready for self-immolation so many times before you end up burning her out. So, out of those three, I believe the ligature is not only fairly fool-proof, but also rather pleasant. But, the demon in my head is a problem, not just for me, but for everyone else. If I don't cleanse myself with the primordial low-heat plasma destructiveness of fire, then he may just live on in spirit...waiting to jump into someone else's head.

I know that lady who killed her kid by accidental suffocation burned herself, but I've been thinking about this for a long time now. In a secondary morbidly curious sort of way, I wonder what kind of rise I could get out of people by subjecting them to the trauma of a man's flesh burning right off him in broad daylight. However, this is for me. This death I think, would be the only way I could truly respect myself as a sentient being--giving up a life in which I hate and am hated in return, simply because people unconsciously know that I have just enough brain damage to render me intelligent, yet emotionless and cruel at times. I hate myself and want to die, a fitting song, but I'll end up playing "The Day I Tried To Live" by Soundgarden anyhow.