Better Off Dead

I've contemplated my situation and realized I'm better off dead.  My life is a bad deal.  I get up and take a shit and wipe my ass, which I hate doing passionately.  I have to do this at least a few times everyday.  I also hate having to piss, which I have to do more than several times a day.  Afterward, my penis always leaks piss into my underwear; every single day is disgusting.  It's guaranteed. 
I've mentioned the pain I'm in; it's chronic, and it hurts.
I hate my job; it's very repetitive and boring; it's a soul squasher.  All I've had are menial jobs.  That's where I'm stuck.  When I've tried to get a better one, they have said, "no."  They say America is a free country, but not if you have to work.  You're a slave to the money you need to live in a society that's not worth living in anyway.
I hate people.  There are a small amount of coworkers I get along with, but they eat meat, which means they unnecessarily support animal cruelty. 
I have no friends, girlfriend, or pets.  I love dogs, but the question of whether to get a pet or not is a complicated one, and I have ultimately decided against getting one.  One of the most important reason is I need to be free to kill myself.  If I have a pet I can't do that, because, as far as I'm concerned, when you make a commitment to a pet, it's for his or her entire life. 
My shitty neighbors ruin my home life, so there's no escape from the shit, the misery.  As I'm writing this, I'm keeping an eye on the clock, because, as soon as I can, I'm going to have to attempt to do my laundry again.  There's too much fucking competition for the goddamn laundry machines here.  I'm way overdue when it comes to laundry.  I go there, and the machines are inevitably taken.    
I've considered living in the wilderness, but how can I go without showers and toilet paper?  I'm addicted to living in this sick society.  Besides, bugs ruin the wilderness.
Death, as I see it, is an end to pain.
 

I'd Rather Be Dead

That's my idea of a bumper sticker.  A popular bumper sticker is "I'd rather be fishing."  I wonder if mine could catch on. 
I think death is better than life.  With death, all the shit that bothers you just goes away.  Perhaps anything that brings me closer to death is a good thing.  My neighbors make me want to be dead.  I've had to listen to their too-loud TV coming through the wall for hours today.  They've ruined yet another one of my days off from work.  Shitting and wiping my ass brings me closer to death.  I hate it. 
My neighbors would probably love it if I killed myself.  That's not a very pleasant thought, but it's a real one.  But that's another great thing about death.  You're not even capable of caring what people think about you.  Even if you wanted to, you couldn't.   
I've tried to get help for depression.  I might get strangled by red tape.  I have to wait till 1/1/18 to get healthcare from my job.  I've tried to get it from the gov't's website, but I keep getting stuck at a certain spot, and I'm pretty sure it's their fault, not mine. 
I'm having trouble typing today, so I suppose I'll wrap it up.  I'm having a bad day.  I'm having a bad life.

Ready to Die

I really am ready to die.  Notorious B.I.G. released an album called Ready to Die, and, before long, he was dead.  So, perhaps by titling this likewise, I have sealed my fate.  Death seems to be better than life.  It's easier.  That's what I believe.  There's no pain in death: no suffering.  They just sleep all the time, which sounds great to me. 
I've noticed a pattern.  I get up.  I take a shit and wipe my ass, which makes me hate life.  I hear my shitty neighbors, and, as a result, I hate life.  More shitting and wiping, which makes me hate life even more.  I go to work, which makes me hate life over and over again every time.  Driving makes me hate life too; it's so stressful.  All sorts of shitty things make me hate life.  I suppose I just hate life.
I've mentioned guzzling antifreeze here before.  Before one does anything life that, one should know what the consequences will be.  I Googled that a little, and it seems like a horrible way to die.  My point about that is, if I drink some of it, then, in my mind at least, I'll be fucked, and so I might as well jump or hang, because I've damaged myself (perhaps irrevocably) with the antifreeze (Or should one refer to it as "coolant" if one sips it in the summer?).  

Arrested

I used to be able to say that I've never been arrested: not any more.  I am a memoirist, so, for now, I'm thinking I'll save the full story for another one of my seldom-read eBooks.  Suffice it to say that I'm at the lowest point in my life so far, and that's saying something. 
I've been dealing with the aftermath: court appearances, appointments with lawyers, and asking my job to let me go to these things.  I have a long road of pain-in-the-ass shit ahead.
Also, this has been a very shitty weekend as far as my asshole neighbor fucking with me goes. 
I'm thinking I don't care about my life anymore.  Because of the depression I have, I've thought that the further I slide to the bottom, the better.  I'd rather be dead than alive.  I'm only alive because I'm a coward: too scared to commit suicide.  Life is a nightmare.  It really is.  And when I read stuff written by intelligent people, they back me up on this.  It really is insane that people procreate they way they do and continue this cycle of misery, pain, and suffering.  But I'm just repeating myself. 
Fuck life in society on this planet.  Life is shit (in society) on this planet.  I'd throw it all away and be homeless in the wilderness if I wasn't addicted to toilet paper and showers.  Fuck you society, for getting me addicted to toilet paper and showers: the only good things you came up with.

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

The Smiths

Haven't blogged in a while.  There's at least two reasons for that.   First of all, I'm a complete mess, and, secondly, I have a job.  I got a job working for a major home-improvement chain store.  I'm still facing major credit card debt.  I might have to file for bankruptcy if I can't get a loan to pay off these credit cards.  But this job is difficult to tolerate.  To do what I'm doing, full-time, is a bit of a nightmare, but, as I and others have mentioned before, life itself is pretty much a nightmare.  I really have to tough it out to make it through the day.  To me, work has become an endurance challenge.  It's driving me crazier than I already am.

Here's a new section on the Bald Vegan!  It's called "thoughts."  I hope you like it!

I"m sure that life sucks.  Sometimes, when I'm in the midst of a deep depression, I remind myself that I can commit suicide anytime I want to, and it cheers me up a little.

I don't' believe in heaven, but I believe in hell, and this it it.  This planet has a history of violence that is staggering in its scope.

I'm jealous of the dead.

After death, even soft, healthy skin will rot.

That's thoughts for this week.  I'll end with a poem for a poet.

Who am I?
How do others see me?
How do I see myself?
What do others think of me?
Is that really me in the mirror?
Do I exist?
Will anyone miss me when I'm gone?

Closer:Poetry & Prose

 
The closer I get to death, the better.
The closer I get to suicide, the better.
The closer I get to the bottom, the better.
The closer I get to the end, the better.
For that is where the pain will end.
Please allow me to update you on my marvelous career.  Things were going just fine working as a janitor at a bookstore.  Then I walked into the men's room, to clean it, and it hit me: the smell.  It was a bad smell.  I checked the toilets.  Sure enough, one of them was filled with poop soup.  It was so f*cking gross.  I began to gag.  Tears streamed down my face.  What could I do?  I flushed it: hoping it wouldn't overflow.  It didn't, but the noxious mess didn't go down.  I kept flushing it, as I kept gagging with tears rolling down my unremarkable face.  What if I have to plunge it?!  What if some of it splashed onto me as I was doing that?  Fortunately, I made some progress with my flushes.  Finally, after several flushes, it was gone.  But, not surprisingly, the toilet had been annihilated with poop stains.  Lucky me, it was my job to clean it, which led to more gagging and tears.
That wonderful assignment ended.  I was merely filling in for a man that cleans bathrooms 7 days a week.  I'd rather be homeless or dead.  My job developer got me another cleaning job.  I wasn't at all excited about it.  First of all, it was quite a long drive away.  I accepted it anyway.  He took me to my first night there.  I soon learned it would be my responsibility to clean 4 buildings for a company that manufactures bricks or something like that.  The place was filthy.  Floors needed to be mopped, carpets needed to be vacuumed, and toilets needed to be cleaned.  I would spend at least 2 and a half hours working there that night, but I knew pretty early on that I didn't want that shitty job.  On the way back, my job developer and I didn't talk much at all.  I wanted to wait until we were in the parking lot of my apartment building.  Just before getting out of his jeep, I said, "I'm sorry, but I don't want this job."  He said, "Yeah, I figured that."
I'd rather be homeless or dead than clean other people's shit out of toilets. 
          

This Life Isn't for Everyone

 
In the history of the world, no person or animal has agreed to the terms of existence prior to being brought into it.  This is obvious to many.  However, it is one of the reasons why I haven't brought a person or animal into this world, and I hope I never do.
America is one of the (if not the most) freest countries in the world.  However, only the very wealthy are truly free.  The rest of us must work for a living.  This is also obvious.  But many people don't like their jobs.  Many people hate their jobs.  Not everyone can be a successful rock star, movie star, or professional athlete.  So most of us aren't really free.
Working at a job you dislike or hate isn't for everyone.  When biological parents, who aren't very wealthy, bring their sons and daughters into this world, they're forcing them to live a certain way.  Their children will have to go to school.  They will have to behave themselves.  At a certain point, they will have to enter the workforce.
A lot people can't "hack" working at a job they hate.  They try, but they just can't do it.  It's just not for them.  What happens to these people?  They become homeless.  They turn to a life of crime, and, as a result, end up dead or in prison.  And they commit suicide.  Suicide is always a leading cause of death.  In the U.S., there are more suicides than homicides.  Since 9/11, more U.S. soldiers have committed suicide than have been killed in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.
I'm living a life of rejection.  I've been let go from lots of jobs.  I apply for jobs.  But, probably becasue I've been out of work for a long time, I remain unemployed.  I didn't ask for this life.  I did not sign up for this.  I did not give my permission to be brought into this world and deal with all the crap that one has to deal with.  When I apply for jobs, I'm competing with lots of other people for them.  This is a result of overpopulation.  I haven't contributed to the problem of overpopulation, but I must deal with the consequences regardless.
Alcohol is a demon.  I have depression.  I realize alcohol is a depressant.  Therefore, I should not drink.  I am less depressed when I don't drink.  On the other hand, I enjoy drinking.  But, once the drinking is done, the depression sets in.  These are some real problems I face:
I don't want to drink, but I don't want to be sober.
I don't want to live, but I don't want to kill myself.                     

I'm Dead

 
I'm dead.

Suicide Should Be Easy

 
I wonder if, in the future, we'll be able to go to one of many stores, show proof that we're 21 years old or older, and then purchase pills that are specifically made to kill us.  If we choose to, that evening, before going to bed, we can swallow those pills and die a peaceful and painless death in our sleep.  I firmly believe we should have this option.  There are exceptions, though.  If you're a biological parent, then you shouldn't be allowed to buy such pills, because you have one or more sons and/or daughters to take care of.  Similarly, you also shouldn't be able to buy them if you have one or more pets to take care of.
I wish I could swallow some pills or push a button and end my pain.  I don't want to wake up tomorrow.  Yet I find it difficult to commit suicide.  I've tried it before.  I attempted to hang myself, but my toes were touching the floor after I stepped off the step ladder, so I was able to get out of it, and I did.  Life sucks.  If you think life is good, then you're either lucky, or a total moron.
Only the living suffer.  If you think the dead suffer, then you might be a brain-dead imbecile.
F religion.  God never existed.  God was created out of fear and ignorance.
To me, this world is backwards.  The average person believes in god, brings children into this f-upped world, and eats meat.  It's like a Twilight Zone episode.  Why believe in god?  There's not a shred of evidence.  Is he supposed to be looking out for us?  Then how do you explain war, genocide, murder, rape, child molestation, assault, and so on?  This is a very messed-up world.  There is so much pain and misery in this world, that you couldn't possibly measure it.  And why would you eat meat?  You don't need to.  You'd be better off if you ate fruits, veggies, beans, nuts, seeds, and whole grains.  Why terrorize the creatures that share the world with us?  It's because humans are the worst animals to ever walk this planet: violent, selfish, brutal, and greedy.

And, as I've written before, this goes out to anyone who isn't disabled, a child, afflicted with a horrible disease, or elderly.  It goes out to the average person.   

Bumpkin Can Resurrect the Dead

Reunited and it feels so good: Sheila and Bumpkin back in the day.

She really did it.  Bumpkin was missing her mommy: Sheila.  I was missing her too.  Aside from a little perhaps too-tough love, she's been a good mother to her groundhog daughters: the big and beautiful Lucinda, the sleepy Sloopy, and the biggest threat to world peace: Bumpkin (she of the evilly-supplied superpowers).
Bumpkin concocted a way to locate her mother via DNA.  Unfortunately, she had passed on to the next world.  "Why won't she wake up?" she asked me.  I was there because I gave her a ride.
"It's because she's dead Bumpkin," I replied.
"Dead?  Like what I've done to lots of people and some animals?"
"Yes, Bumpkin.  She's dead, and, I'm sorry to say it, but there's no coming back from it."
"You fool!  You better watch what you say about my mommy!"  She immediately went to her expired mother and touched her lifeless body.  A jolt went through Sheila's body.  She had re-awoken!  She had come back from the dead to join the living once again!  Sloopy and Lucinda were in for a treat!  Mommy's back from the dead!
Sheila was a little slow.  After all, she may have been dead for months.  She probably hasn't used any of those muscles in quite a while.  Bumpkin realized this.  She levitated Sheila, and transported her, effortlessly, through the air at a very low, and safe, altitude.  Sheila was grareful for the assistance.  She'd get back on her paws eventually, but it's best not to rush things, especially when Bumpkin is on hand with all of her superpowers, which can make anything much easier.
"What are we going to tell Sloopy and Lucinda?" I asked Bumpkin.
"Nothing!  You'll tell them nothing!  I want it to be a gosh-darn surprise, buster, so you better not be ruining things with that big, dumb, smart mouth of yours!"
"Which is it Bumpkin?  Is my mouth dumb or smart?  It can't be both."
"This, mister, is an example of your smart mouth: a mouth that could earn another fireball to the backside of your rump, pal.  You've got a smart mouth, wisenheimer.  It's what comes out of it that's dumb." 
"Oh, I get it now, Bumpkin.  Thank you so much for explaining it to me."
"Buster, do you want me to toast your buns with a super-hot fireball?"
"No, ma'am.  We're just having a conversation here, Bumpkin.  There's no need for you to harm me physically."
"I'll be the judge of that," replied the divine Miss B.